





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 












































/ 












« 



















V 








































































































































































' 

< 



















































































































' 








- 





























































































































































\ 

- 










- 




















































K E Z T A AND THE DOCTOR: 

OR, 

THE INFIDEL’S SCHOOL. 


LYDIA E. ROUSE, 


Author of “ Changed Lives,” etc. 


r.. 


One Sinner destroy eth much good." — Bible . 


PHILADELPHIA : 


gr • ^ « w u 

0 MAY 5 1888 
' f326 


THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

1122 Chestnut Street. 

New York : 10 Bible House. 


1888. 

[Copyright 1888, by The American Sunday-School Union.] 





























CONTENTS 


Chapter. Page. 

I. KEZIA FLEETWOOD 5 

II. DR. ARMSTRONG 12 

III. BLOOD AND SOUL POISONING .... 19 

IV. THE INFIDEL’S PUPILS 30 

V. A DEEP SHADOW 39 

VI. ALICE IN AMOY 46 

VII. FATHER AND MOTHER GONE .... 53 

VIII. THE WRETCHED HOME 63 

IX. FACING SNEERS 74 

X. FACING DUTY 86 

XI. THE GRUMBLER CURED 100 

XII. MORE SNEERS 109 

XIII. A DEEPER SHADOW 117 

XIV. THE SILENT VIOLIN 124 

XV. A SORE DENIAL. 133 

XVI. A HARVEST HOME 142 

XVII. THE MISSIONARY’S SONS 147 

XVIII. THE TWO FRIENDS 156 

XIX. THE OLD HOME 163 

XX. A RUNAWAY 173 

XXI. CRUSHED AND REBELLIOUS 180 

XXII. DECISION 187 

XXIII. YIELDING TO CIRCUMSTANCES. . » . 194 


3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


XXIV. OTHER CHANGES 201 

XXV. A DISAPPOINTED WOMAN 206 

XXVI. A HUNGRY HOUSE 212 

XXVII. MORE TRIALS 217 

XXVIII. PARTINGS 223 

XXIX. DRIFTING APART 230 

XXX. A missionary’s visit 236 

XXXI. CLARA AND KEZIA 241 

XXXII. THE BLIND DOCTOR 245 


KEZT A AND THE DOCTOR. 


CHAPTER I. 

KEZIA FLEETWOOD. 

My name is Kezia Fleetwood, and I hope 
that none of my readers will be as much 
annoyed by it, as I have been. Even to this 
day, I cannot understand why I, the eldest 
daughter of Esquire Fleetwood, should have re- 
ceived such an undesirable cognomen, while my 
three sisters were named Laura, Helen and 
Alice. I have always imagined that my first 
name is much in fault for my last name remain- 
ing unchanged, for of four sisters, I, Kezia, am 
the only unmarried one. Whether my name 
is to blame for this or not, I have long since 
become reconciled to a single life. 

I was always imagining something ; I had a 
way of letting my fancy run. I formed the 
habit in childhood, and I still dream on. 

Perhaps there was a period in my life when I 
was particularly dreamy and absent-minded. 
When Dr. Armstrong, who had just settled in 
our town, seemed to pay Laura and myself an 
equal amount of attention, and finally chose 

5 


6 


kezia and the doctor. 


Laura, I said nothing to any one ; but I often let 
my sewing fall into my lap while I sat staring 
at the wall, imagining, with silly innocence, Dr. 
Armstrong saying to himself, “Kezia, Kezia, 
my love. No, that will never do. Laura, my 
love. Ah ! that sounds more like it.’ 7 But 
before I realized that my hands were idle, my 
mother would say, somewhat sharply, “ Kezia, 
your hands are empty and you are dreaming 
again.” Well, it was hard enough that I had 
to answer to that name, and yet could not be 
left alone to vent my vexation upon it. Kezia 
Armstrong ! No, I don’t wonder the doctor did 
not like the sound. 

That was years ago, and I have learned many 
things since then. Among others I have 
learned that husbands do not always say “ my 
love,” to their wives ; that they become chary 
of the words of endearment that fall so easily 
from their lips during the honey-moon. This 
is one reason that I am satisfied to be 
Kezia Fleetwood instead of being Mrs. Dr. 
Armstrong, or Mrs. anyone else. As a rule, I 
think I am better satisfied with things that have 
not changed than with those that have. Many 
things in and about my old home are changed, 
and I am changed too, though I still let my 
thoughts run on in the old way. And as I sit 
here day after day, I cannot but think ; and 


KEZIA FLEETWOOD. 


7 


something whispers, “ W rite down your 
thoughts. Write how changes and sorrows and 
losses have affected you and your friends.” 

I am known only as Miss Fleetwood now. 
My jet-black hair has turned white, and as I 
write I look, not through bright, laughing eyes, 
but through dim-sighted ones, helped by my 
gold-bowed glasses, which I must keep close at 
hand. 

I am afraid if I do not leave the window 
where I am sitting I shall not tell my story in 
a clear and pleasing manner ; for many fond 
memories linger here ! Under this window my 
little sisters, Helen and Alice, played. Here 
stands the same clump of lilac trees that I loved 
when a girl, and the fragrance that the wind 
brings to me is the same too. To the left of the 
lilacs stands the same old maple, and in it the 
robins still build their nests. The summer 
winds sigh through it, and the winter winds 
moan, but even the sighs are more mournful 
now, because there are so few sounds to listen 
to. I must go and sit in the room that I still 
call mother’s. I can think more steadily there ; 
something like the calm of her own presence 
seems to pervade it. I feel very differently in 
different rooms. You may wonder that this is 
so, but this old home has been my world. It 
has less of sameness than most homes have. 


8 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


From the back windows I look on the Cats- 
kills, on dim, dark forests, fronted with green 
fields smiling in the summer sunlight, or on un- 
pretending farm houses nestling on the hill-sides. 
Looking upon all this, it is easy to believe that 
the world is young again, that the people living 
under the shadow of these everlasting hills are 
primitive in their tastes and habits. But to the 
front lies the busy town. The tall church spires 
rise before my eyes, and so does the smoke of 
the furnaces. The shrill whistle of the engine 
sounds in my ears, and omnibusses whirl by, 
filled with gay and fashionable people who have 
left their city homes to be accommodated at the 
mammoth hotels on the mountain. So quickly 
and so easily can I turn from looking on quiet, 
secluded nooks where a fox might make his den, 
to the bustling scenes of this ever changing 
world ! 

I love the rear of the house better. There 
my heart is less worldly, because I am led to 
reflect. Everything I look at makes me think. 
There is nothing to jar and jostle together 
thoughts that do not harmonize. It is good for 
us to have a place where we can stop and think. 

Mother’s room has a different view from any 
I have described. It looks out on scenes that 
are midway between the seeming dead silence 
of the one, and the life and din and bustle of 


KEZIA FLEETWOOD. 


9 


the other. Many of the flowers I look at were 
favorites and they seem to speak to me of her. 
This room is the pleasantest room in the house ; 
it was the home-room. Every house has its 
home-room, every home has its inner sanctuary. 
This room has been that to me. And although 
it is here that I most miss the dear absent ones 
till I often cry out, “All thy waves and thy bil- 
lows are gone over me,” it is here, too, that I 
have received my richest consolations. Al- 
though dear mother no longer sits here with me, 
looking at me through those kind, grave eyes 
that seemed to be the windows of her soul, I 
feel that she does not miss this pleasant place, 
nor me, her child. And I know that the ab- 
sent living ones are as tenderly watched over 
by the great and good Father as they were at 
home. Beside, I am never lonely here, for the 
room is near the kitchen, and I can always hear 
Patty, my faithful housemaid at her work. 
Patty is one of those rare servants who become 
family friends as well. She seems in many 
ways to connect the past with the present, for 
she was mother’s servant as well as mine. But 
since it is with the past that I have to deal, it 
is not well to dwell longer on a description of 
my old home and its occupants. 

I have already mentioned Dr. Armstrong, my 
sister Laura’s husband. Helen married Oliver 


10 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


Williams, an earnest young minister, and they 
have been missionaries in China these many 
years. Alice married Wilfred Arthur, a young 
physician who had studied with Dr. Armstrong, 
and if he had learned nothing but a knowledge 
of medicine from the doctor, my story would 
be less sad. But Dr. Armstrong was an infidel, 
and like most of his kind, he sought to shake 
the foundations of our faith, sought to take 
away the soul’s hope without supplying any- 
thing else on which it could lean. I think 
now, that that man’s unbelief, and his persistent 
efforts to sow the evil seed has been the cause 
of our unhappiness as a family. I do not know 
that Laura knew the doctor’s views before her 
marriage. I like to think that she did not. Cer- 
tain it is, that our parents did not, or he would 
never with their consent have come into our 
family. The Bible was to them, the Book of all 
books. Its teaching was their guide ; its prom- 
ises their stay and comfort. Although they 
found many things hard to be understood, they 
were not dogmatic in their interpretation, lest 
they should wrest the Scriptures to their own 
destruction. They felt that God would have 
us as obedient children, accept his testimony of 
himself ; accept his code of laws, his right to 
govern, and that it was their duty to be led. 
They knew that Paul meant this when he wrote 


KEZIA FLEETWOOD. 


11 


“the just shall live by faith.” They were 
obliged to put trust in their fellow -mortals, and 
it did not seem unreasonable to trust God who 
has revealed himself to us as the great and lov- 
ing Father of us all. Nor had God left him- 
self without witnesses in this world, for his 
children are infinitely happier than those who are 
strangers to him. And I think with father and 
mother that the hardest belief to accept is un- 
belief, and that the hardest thing to believe 
about God is that he is not . 


CHAPTER II. 


DR. ARMSTRONG. 

Dr. Armstrong possessed a wonderful fasci- 
nation which, gave him power over those he 
met. When with him, people were easily 
swayed ; but once away from him, the fallacy of 
his arguments was easily discerned ; so danger 
or safety seemed to depend on his presence 
and absence. It appears that the evil one 
chooses his emissaries very wisely. They are usu- 
ally well fitted for their work, and of course the 
guile they use is borrowed directly from Satan 
himself, since he readily transforms himself 
“ into an angel of light.” 

As I have intimated, Dr. Armstrong was very 
insinuating, and it was his boast that he could 
“ wind people around his finger.” Laura once 
replied, “If that is so, it places you in a very 
responsible position.” The doctor laughed care- 
lessly and made no other answer. Five years 
afterward we had cause to remember both the 
warning and the laugh it provoked. 

Wilfred Arthur, too, was a man of bright 
parts, and he was led in the wrong direction 
only becaue he was too proud to humble himself 
12 


DR. ARMSTRONG. 


13 


and accept the true and simple faith of his 
Christian parents. Pride blinds even our spirit- 
ual sight, else Wilfred might have seen that 
the Christian faith is as grand as simple, and as 
pure as grand. What manliness there was in 
believing in nothing, in recognizing no God, no 
hereafter, was a question that he did not pause 
to ask himself. Wilfully blinded, he rushed 
headlong into folly — worse than folly — be- 
lieving anything that he might believe no- 
thing. For, while a belief in God as a great 
first Cause will explain all that is otherwise in- 
explicable, a disbelief in him calls for number- 
less theories, which are held by one generation 
and set aside by the next, for new ones equally 
groundless and unsatisfactory. I often think 
that if I were a believer in chance, I would be 
crazed with apprehension and fear ! The trou- 
bles that I have passed through have been 
endurable only because I recognized a Father’s 
hand, and felt that in his own good time he 
would stay it. I admit that there are trials of 
our faith, and bitter ones, but better a tried faith 
than no faith. Beside, not unfrequently, trials 
prove great blessings, and they often strengthen 
the very points they seem to threaten. 

But to return to Wilfred. This silly boy 
took great pains to parade his shameless views. 
We often heard of this, and we knew that he 


14 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


was following in the wake of Dr. Armstrong 
when he took such trouble to deny the Lord 
that bought him ; and watched for opportunities 
to confound professing Christians who knew 
what they believed and why they believed, but 
were not gifted with argumentative powers. 

Once and only once these brothers-in-law 
tried to talk infidelity under our roof. My 
father was reading the Bible, when some con- 
temptuous remark concerning it caught his at- 
tention. He closed the book, and took off his 
glasses with great deliberation. We, who knew 
him so well, saw that he meant to have the 
matter settled once and for all. 

“ Young men,” he said, “you offend me when, 
you speak in such a manner of this blessed 
book. For fifty years I have gone to it for 
guidance and comfort, and never has it failed 
me. If you could destroy my confidence in it 
and prevail upon me to hold it as lightly as you 
do, what would you offer me in place of it ? ” 

There was no answer, and father continued, 
“ Would you rob an old man of a life-long hope 
without giving him the shadow of another? 
Would you take away the only lamp from a 
benighted traveler ? Then you are robbers, and 
not true men. Dr. Armstrong, I know not from 
what parentage you have sprung, whether or 
not you are sinning in the face of long years of 


DR. ARMSTRONG. 


15 


religious training. But you, young man,” turn- 
ing and fixing his eyes on Wilfred, “you, sir, 
are having a hard fight with your conscience, 
and are sinning against light and knowledge, 
I advise you to go to your gray-haired father 
and beg him to bow low with you and besiege 
the throne of grace for the forgiveness of your 
glaring sins.” 

Turning again to Dr. Armstrong, father said, 
“ Tremble for the future, for there is a future, 
and at the judgment bar of the God whom you 
set at naught, the blood of this young man’s 
soul may be required of you. It is a fearful 
crime to take the life of a fellow being, but it is 
ten thousand times more fearful to rob the soul 
of eternal life. If I wonder at God’s dealings 
with men, it is because he does not strike down 
those who array themselves against him, and 
seek to destroy the souls for whom Christ 
died.” 

I never before heard my father speak so 
sternly, and I assure you his words were felt. 
Even Dr. Armstrong flushed to his forehead, 
and Wilfred’s face was as pale as marble and 
nearly as fixed. Did the difference in their 
looks indicate a difference in their emotions, or 
were they both angry ? We could not tell. 

Laura bent over her infant that she might 
hide the starting tears. But they could not be 


16 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


hidden, they broke away and dropped from her 
cheek on the face of little Harry. Alice was 
sitting close beside mother, as was her habit ; 
for although she was Dr. Arthur’s wife, she 
never forgot that she was her mother’s baby. 
When she could no longer endure the conversa- 
tion, she threw her arms around her mother’s 
neck and sobbed on her shoulder. 

Mother was outwardly calm, but in her heart 
she wished that she had her children back under 
home influences. I was sorry for my sisters, 
but I did not regret one word of the reproof, and 
I could have hugged dear, grand old father for 
so bravely standing up for the truth. 

Father put on his glasses, and resumed his 
reading like the Spartan he was, but he felt 
easier after Laura found the opportunity to say, 
“ Thank you, father, for your faithful words. 
They hurt, but some wounds must be probed if 
they are ever to be healed.” 

The two doctors left the house as soon as 
they could, and when beyond hearing, Dr. Arm- 
strong said, “ I could have out-talked the old man 
easily enough, but he is my wife’s father, and 
of course I was gentleman enough to allow him 
to think he had whipped.” 

“ I am not so sure that you could have out- 
talked him. I confess I felt the force of some 
things he said.” 


DR. ARMSTRONG. 


17 


“You did? Well, you are a great fellow 1 
I thought you looked rather white. Well, 
well, I am ashamed of you. Afraid of the 
judgment day, I suppose,” he laughed. 

“Your laugh is a forced one, Armstrong,” 
Wilfred replied, “ I say his talk was solemn and 
impressive. I know you felt it, you can’t cheat 
me.” 

“ Tut, tut, man, I am as good as ever, not one 
bit scorched by his warnings of fire and brim- 
stone. Laura, poor girl, felt badly, and I was 
sorry for her, I don’t wish to vex her. I think 
I don’t mind having her religious ; women 
make better wives for the notions they get 
through religion. But wait till Harry grows 
up, and won’t I train him to suit myself! ” 

“ Perhaps you can’t ; some people are natur- 
ally religious,” said Wilfred. 

“ Then I’ll get the religion out of him if I 
have to beat it out.” 

“ Somehow I don’t enjoy your talk as usual, 
doctor.” 

“All right, Wilfred, then I won’t talk any 
more till you come to your senses,” Dr. Arm- 
strong returned, good naturedly. 

As may be supposed, this wretched infidelity 
made us very unhappy. What a contrast be- 
tween the husbands of my sisters ! There was 
Oliver, forsaking home, kindred and country 
.2 


18 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


that he might carry the glad tidings of the gos- 
pel to the heathen ; while under the full blaze of 
the light of the same gospel Dr. Armstrong and 
Wilfred unblushingly sought to undo the work 
that had been done. Despite my father’s self- 
command, his hair whitened very fast. Once 
he said to mother, “ I fear that these sons-in- 
law of ours will bring down our ‘ gray hairs 
with sorrow to the grave.’ ” 

Mother sighed and answered, “We can only 
pray for them, and especially must we pray for 
Laura and Alice.” 

And they did pray ; we all prayed that they 
might be kept from evil influence, and that their 
faith might not fail. Blessed be God, they were 
kept 1 Somewhere I will relate the proof. 


CHAPTER III. 

BLOOD AND SOUL POISONING. 

A few years passed by without bringing any 
marked change; though now as I look back 
on them, it is easy to see that they were not 
without their effect on us all. As I have be- 
fore intimated, our parents were fast hurrying 
toward that change that awaits all the living. 
My two sisters were growing very sad and 
quiet, and their husbands were growing more 
shamelessly and hopelessly infidel in principle 
and practice. Wilfred’s compunctions had been 
short-lived, and they left him harder than ever. 
As for myself, I felt that as a family, our pros- 
pects were fast being blighted. Only from the 
far distant mission-field came glimpses of hope 
and encouragement. Helen and Oliver lived 
and labored for the cause they loved. Between 
them there were no dividing lines. Together 
they walked one road, and they looked away 
across the darkness of heathendom with un- 
speakable pity upon those who had set up their 
little worldly wisdom in opposition to the wis- 
dom of God as revealed in his word. 

There were sad, sad events in our history 

19 


20 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


as a family and they belong to this part of my 
story. I am aware that I am about to attempt 
to describe the indescribable ; but how else can 
you know anything of the horror of Wilfred’s 
death ; how else can you be warned to escape 
a like unhappy end? So, much as I shrink 
from putting the terrible memory down in 
words, something within me whispers, “Write 
it down, Kezia, it may do good.” 

Full of health and spirits Dr. Armstrong and 
our poor Wilfred stood over the dead body of 
one of our townspeople. The case had been 
very peculiar, and the doctors were holding a 
post-mortem examination in the hope of finding 
some clue to the disease. 

“We shall understand all these things better 
some day,” said Wilfred, as they went on with 
their investigations. 

“ Yes, indeed, there is nothing that science 
won’t do,” replied Dr. Armstrong. 

They worked on without any feeling unless 
it was that of indifference, for they had become 
accustomed to similar scenes. At the close of 
the examination, Dr. Armstrong said, “ There, 
sir, I think we have made an important dis- 
covery.” 

“ I am sure we have,” Wilfred replied, then 
lightly added, “ But this poor fellow is in a 
sorry plight to resurrect.” 


BLOOD AND SOUL POISONING. 21 

“ Sorry enough at any time L The idea that 
any body will be resurrected is sheer nonsense,” 
responded Dr. Armstrong. “ Then think of 
that wonderful vision in the valley of dry 
bones — ” Wilfred had gotten thus far when 
the sudden turn of an uncleansed instrument 
pierced his hand. Unfortunately, he thought 
he had cleaned it with the other instruments, so 
he merely said, “ See, I cut myself with those 
deuced scissors. Lucky that I cleaned them, or 
we might have a case of blood poisoning on our 
hands.” 

“ I should say as much,” said Dr. Armstrong. 

So the opportunity passed for the amputation 
of the injured finger, or for any other measures 
that might have been taken to remove the dan- 
ger. 

It would be needless to dwell upon the phys- 
ical suffering of poor Wilfred, terrible as it was ; 
for the mental agony far outweighed it. Nor 
did Dr. Armstrong retain his accustomed com- 
posure under the trying situation in which he 
found himself. For when the certainty of 
death was forced upon Wilfred, he turned to 
Dr. Armstrong, saying, 

“ You have been my destroyer ! I came to 
you satisfied with the faith of my fathers ; 
more than that, I was a man of prayer, and I 
was hoping ere long to feel that I was a for- 


22 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


given sinner. You upset my faith, by various 
means, but mainly by ridicule. Kidicule is 
the devil’s own weapon, it is forged in the fires 
of hell, it bears the stamp of the prince of evil. 
You have wielded it right loyally, Dr. Arm- 
strong.” 

He ceased speaking, though he still looked 
at the doctor with eyes that seemed to ques- 
tion, “ What have you to say for yourself? ” 
“Don’t be too hard upon me, Wilfred, dear 
boy. You surely had a mind of your own.” 

“ I had, but it was your boast that you could 
sway men’s minds at your will, and I mistake 
if many death -beds do not ring with curses 
called down upon your name — if hell itself does 
not resound with curses upon Dr. Armstrong ! ” 
During this terrible talk our dear Alice had 
settled down in a little heap in mother’s big 
chair. How small and frail and sad she looked ! 
Her eyes wandered from one face to another in 
search of hope, but finding no encouragement in 
the blank faces around her, she exclaimed, “Is 
there no one to hope? Is there no one to pray? ” 
A groan from Wilfred’s old father was the 
immediate response, and a moment after he said, 
“ Let us try to pray,” and slipping down upon 
his knees, he began in a voice, which was very 
broken at first, but gradually gained in strength. 
It seemed to us that he wrestled with that faith, 


BLOOD AND SOUL POISONING. 


23 


that importunity that Jacob used at Peniel, and 
we silently joined him as he pleaded: 

“0 God! say not to thine unworthy servant 
who beseeches thee in this, the last hour of 
hope for the salvation of his only son ; Ephra- 
im is joined to his idols, let him alone! But 
say rather that our prayers have come up be- 
fore thee, that our tears have been put in thy 
bottle and are remembered in thy book; that 
thou hast no pleasure in the death of the 
wicked. Oh, hide not thyself from my suppli- 
cation, attend unto me, and hear me. Out of 
the depths have I cried unto thee, my heart is 
overwhelmed ; hear me speedily for the sake of 
Jesus, the Friend of sinners. But for him we 
are all without hope, and though my son has 
set at naught thy counsels and would none of 
thy reproof; yea, even though he has sinned 
against thee with a high hand and an out- 
stretched arm, yet is the salvation thou hast 
provided sufficient to cleanse him from all sin. 
Help him in these last moments to make hum- 
ble confession of his wickedness before thee, 
and before us, and to cry mightily to thee for 
forgiveness, that our burdened hearts may have 
some ground for hope. He has wilfully lost 
the blessed privilege of glorifying thee in this 
life, of bearing witness to thy love and mercy. 
Let him not bear witness to thy just wrath. 


24 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


O God ! mercy, not justice; mercy, not justice. 
Mercy, mercy ” 

The prayer suddenly ceased. We looked at 
the kneeling man. His chin rested on his 
breast and his face was ghastly pale. Wilfred 
caught sight of the limp figure and the blood- 
less cheek, and he cried, 

“ My father’s heart is broke.n. He has died 
for me ; but, alas ! even that can’t save me.” 

“ He is not dead, Wilfred,” said Dr. Arm- 
strong, though his voice expressed the uncer- 
tainty that he tried to hide. 

“ I tell you he is dead, and I have killed 
him,” Wilfred answered fiercely. Then turn- 
to his wife, he said more calmly, “ Don’t you die 
too, Alice. Live to do as much good as I have 
done evil. It is a comfort to me, even now, 
that you have never given up your faith in the 
gospel of Christ.” 

In the meantime, Dr. Armstrong was trying, 
though without success, to restore Mr. Arthur 
to consciousness. 

“ I told you so, I told you he was dead,” said 
Wilfred. 

“ Is he really gone ? ” asked my father of Dr. 
Armstrong. 

“ I am afraid he is,” was the meek reply. 

Wilfred spoke again: “ Bury us side by side, 
so that at the resurrection morn — ” he paused, 


BLOOD AND SOUL POISONING. 


25 


and looked at Dr. Armstrong. Their eyes met, 
and Wilfred continued, “How lately we jeered 
at the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead l 
But now all these cob- web delusions are laid bare 
before these eyes of mine that already begin to 
pierce the confines of the other world. We have 
been fools, doctor ! W e belong to those of 
whom Paul speaks when he said, 4 Professing 
themselves to be wise, they became fools. 7 
The Psalmist, too, has given us a text : 1 The 
fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. 7 
This, then, has been our folly, our madness, and 
it will be our damnation.” 

He turned to father and said, “ You were 
faithful to me, in that you set the truth before 
me. It was good seed and might have taken 
root even by the wayside, but for evil influ- 
ence. 0 Dr. Armstrong ! I have reason to 
curse the day I saw you.” 

Father did not reply at once, but he soon 
said, “ Try to believe ; God’s mercy is very 
great.” 

“ Do try to believe even now, dear Wilfred,” 
pleaded Alice. 

“ 0 Alice ! God’s Spirit shall not always 
strive with man. I had my offers of mercy and 
I persistently refused them. No, Alice, no. 
Hard as it is for you to hear, and hard as it is 
for me to know, we part here and forever. It 


26 KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 

would be wrong to try to deceive ourselves ; 
for I would soon know tbe fallacy of such a 
hope, and you, you would look in vain through- 
out eternity to find Wilfred among the saved.” 

Alice did not reply, but we all knew that her 
unspoken desires were constantly ascending to 
God. 

“ What did you say about your burial, Wil- 
fred ? ” asked father, presently. 

“ I said bury me by my father that we may 
sleep together till the waking of the dead. The 
wish came of a foolish hope that' it would be 
well with me for his sake. But j.10, one would 
be taken and the other left. No man’s right- 
eousness but the God-man’s can be appropriated 
for another, and his I shunned, despised, re- 
jected. Dr. Armstrong, I charge you on your 

honor as a what shall I say ? I can’t say 

as a Christian, for you are far from that ; I can’t 
say as a truthful man, for you have exerted 
yourself both to believe and to teach falsehood ; 
I can’t say as my friend, for had you taken my 
life ten times you were less my enemy than now. 
SoT can only request you not to disguise the 
misery of my last hours to those who like myself, 
have through your influence forsaken the paths 
of truth, and revelled in unbelief.” 

Turning to me, he said, “ Kezia, you and I 
have had many a battle over the Bible. To-day, 


BLOOD AND SOUL POISONING. 27 

I pronounce you victor, and if that pen to which 
you so often turn in your dreamy moods, should 
ever write for other eyes than your own, don’t 
write as some books for the young are written, 
that bad men always become good even if it is 
on their death-beds. But write true to life. 
Write that death often comes suddenly, that 
often there is no chance for thought, that oftener 
still, the sinner’s chance is past ere he is called 
to his death-bed. Almost as well might it be 
said to him, ' He that is unjust, let him be unjust 
still.’” 

I cannot go forward with Wilfred’s death 
scene without stopping to say that I think he is 
wrong, and although I believe with him that too 
often repentance is left for the eleventh hour, 
yet I also believe that God has graciously re- 
ceived many in the last hours of their lives. 
However, it may be safer to believe what Wil- 
fred said. It surely is next to no salvation to 
cutoff all possibility of hearing, “ Well done, good 
and faithful servant,” from our Redeemer's lips, 
to stand empty-handed before him who laid down 
his life for us. The Bible tells of an “ abundant 
entrance,” it also tells of those that are saved 
“ so as by fire.” How shall we be saved ? 0, let 

us learn to praise God here, to delight in his 
will ; let us covet earnestly the best gifts that we 
may better glorify him. Then shall even 


28 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


heaven be sweeter to us through our willing 
service to exalt the name of him through whom 
we enter in. I would rather give my pen to ex- 
hortation than to narrative just here, for I find 
myself shrinking from further detail of poor Wil- 
fred’s death, for its horrors increased as long as 
life lasted. We bore Alice from the room at his 
own bidding, and it seemed that those who re- 
mained in the room added years instead of hours 
to their lives. I think most infidels would have 
believed if they had been in that death-chamber. 
But Dr. Armstrong armed himself with pride 
and self? will, and came through the terrible 
scene without any perceptible change in his 
views. That he was indifferent to what took 
place cannot be said with truth, for his first 
‘ disciple ’as he called Wilfred, caused him to 
wince and change color many times. It is quite 
possible that he loved Wilfred and that his feel- 
ings were stirred on account of his bodily suffer- 
ings, and his untimely end ; but we thought of 
the great Beyond which the poor victim of sin 
made so vivid before us. 

Only a few more of his words will I record. 
He said to Dr. Armstrong, “ Your boasted 
courage will give way when you stand where I 
do, in the very smoke of the infernal pit. Hell 
is real enough ; so are its torments. Deride the 
idea no longer unless you would feel the fangs of 


BLOOD AND SOUL POISONING. 


29 


the worm that never dies.” These were his last 
words, said with his last breath. 

We turned away from the drawn white face, 
with a sickness at our hearts. Only father 
spoke. 

“ There, doctor, that is dying testimony for 
you. You who believe you can die composedly 
will do well to give it a thought. It is my first 
experience at the death-bed of an infidel, and I 
pray God that it may be my last.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE INFIDEL’S PUPILS. 

There are many praiseworthy, self-denying 
teachers in the world; let us thank God for 
them. There are comparatively few teachers 
like Dr. Armstrong; let us thank God for that 
too, thank him that while many in our vicinity 
were endeavoring to impart Scriptural knowledge, 
the doctor alone was the preacher of infidelity. 

Wilfred was his first convert and I wish 
that I might add that he was the last. But 
alas I memory points to one and another who 
were wrecked through the same evil influence. 
Let me think. There were the Blake brothers, 
promising lads they were; there were Fred 
Wilmot and Joe Blanchard, Ike Shepherd and 
Will Watson, Harry Felton and who more ? 
These make but seven and the doctor used to 
boast of half a score. Well, I can’t name them 
all now ; but I remember that old John Peterson 
and David Fardell went over to the wrong side, 
thus shaming their gray hairs. Far rather 
might they have said with the aged James Willis- 
ton on whom the doctor tried his persuasive 
powers : 

80 


THE INFIDEL’S PUPILS. 


31 


‘ “ The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be 
found in the way of righteousness.’ Ask me not 
to depart further from that way than I have 
already gone. I have been wicked enough and 
foolish enough without crowning my wickedness 
and folly by denying the faith that I have 
already neglected.” 

“ J udging by your confession you are not one 
whit better than I am, even if I am all wrong. 
Here you have believed in the Bible ; believed 
that it is your duty to serve God, and you have 
been neglecting that duty all these years. 
Indeed, you are either a great sinner or a great 
fool,” said the doctor. 

“ I am both,” meekly replied the old man, 
“ and I thank you for pointing out my incon- 
sistency. If God will accept me I shall hence- 
forth be his ; I shall delay no longer ; I shall 
cast myself on his mercy. For once, Satan will 
defeat himself, for your words have failed in 
their mission ; they will lead me to seek salvation. 
I thank you for opening my eyes to my neglect, 
and may it often please God to turn the weapons 
of evil on itself.” 

The doctor was moving away when the old 
man said, “ See here, you are a worse man than 
I am. If you are only an honest doubter, why 
do you try to proselyte ? The world is surely 
none the worse for the many who believe in the 


32 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


Bible, and on the other hand, I hear that your 
converts are becoming immoral, ‘ having no fear 
of God before their eyes.’ 0 Dr. Armstrong, 
you are doing a terrible work ! I could hate you 
for it, but the book you pretend to despise 
teaches forbearance and forgiveness/’ 

“ I haven’t time to wait now, but some day we 
will have another talk.” 

“ Not with me, doctor. One can’t wrestle 
with a chimney sweep without being blackened.” 

“ Oh you are afraid and own it,” said the 
doctor. 

"Well, not exactly afraid, but it is not best 
to come into too close contact with the devil.” 

And ever after that Mr. Williston shunned the 
doctor as a dangerous man. 

Perhaps it will be well to tell about these con- 
verts of the doctor, so when they come into our 
story you will know about them. The Blake 
boys always come into my mind next to Wilfred, 
and very naturally, too, for they were in my 
Sunday-school class. To my certain knowledge, 
both boys were Bible readers, and I little thought 
when I praised their industry, that their know- 
ledge would one day be perverted ; that they were 
storing their minds with Biblical truth for con- 
troversy, and not for light and help. Alas, truth 
perverted is the worst kind of error ! David 
said, 1 Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I 


THE INFIDEL’S PUPILS. 


33 


might not sin against thee,’ but these young men 
sinned through that very word. So it is; Scrip- 
tural knowledge may be the ‘ savour of life unto 
life ’ or of ' death unto death ! ’ 

One thing these Blake brothers lacked, though 
they possessed many advantages. I mean home 
religious training. Their mother was a profess- 
ing Christian, but instead of walking close to 
Christ, her Saviour, she seemed to walk in the 
shadow of her worldly-minded husband. She 
read her Bible on Sunday, and the communion 
Sabbath always found her at Church. But her 
religion was rather negative than positive; it 
was of that timid sort that never attacks sin. 
She seemed to grope on in some way, neither 
light nor dark, and yet it must have been one or 
the other. My pen has been idly poised in my 
fingers just at this point, for I have been think- 
ing, — thinking of all those good patient mothers 
who are too undecided, too hopeful that the 
changes the years bring to their children will 
some how make up for their own lack of Chris- 
tian influence. 0 sister women, do yourself 
that noblest work, that most binding duty, the 
duty of training for God and heaven those in- 
trusted to your care ! A little careful leading by 
the mother hand, a few earnest words from the 
mother lips, and a daily fervent prayer from the 
mother heart, might have changed the whole 
3 


34 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


course of the lives of Edward and Alfred Blake. 
It might have added years to the life of one, by 
keeping him from the slippery places of sin and 
shame that lie along the pathway of youth. But 
wanting all this, and falling in with Dr. Arm- 
strong, the brothers set before us the fearful 
lesson that grew out of the lack of good influence, 
and out of the presence of the power of evil. 

Fred Wilmot, as I first saw him was a clear- 
eyed boy and his face had more than a common 
degree of intelligence. And it soon became evi- 
dent that he was a superior lad. Dr. Armstrong 
marked him as one whom he would like to lead, 
for he was sure that Fred would rise aloft the 
“ common herd.” Fred was the only son of 
poor parents, and they were very proud of him. 
The whole family were much flattered by Dr. 
Armstrong’s interest in the lad, and they did not 
oppose the hurtful friendship that sprung up be- 
tween them. The bright boy was easily won by 
the man who was a ready talker, a great wit, and 
very obliging withal. This last trait he showed 
in serious ways. Most of Fred’s text books had 
been the doctor’s property, and many a time 
he helped Fred with his geometry or cleared up 
a foggy place in his Latin lesson. He lent him 
many books to read ; some of them were excellent 
and very beneficial to the boy, only now and 
then he managed to insert among them one of a 


THE INFIDEL’S PUPILS. 


35 


dangerous character. Good and bad, they were 
all eagerly devoured, and by the time Fred had 
reached his eighteenth year the doctor consid- 
ered him one of his most promising followers. 

Joseph Blanchard was an assistant teacher in 
the high school at the time he made the doctor’s 
acquaintance. He, too, was easily won by the 
fascinating, obliging doctor. But he did not 
lack a true friend to warn him of his danger. 
Mr. Rogers, the principal of the same school 
did not neglect his duty to the young man, and 
Joe had a hard fight with his own conscience 
before he gave in to the doctor’s belief, or his 
unbelief. 

Ike Shepherd was a master hand at the 
violin, so every one said. No merry gathering 
was quite complete without him. His was an 
easy, careless nature, so it is no wonder that he 
was drawn away with others who forgot, while 
they walked in the ways of their hearts, 
that for all these things God would bring them 
into judgment. 

- Will Watson was the oldest child of a widowed 
mother. At the age of twelve he became very 
anxious to help her provide for his brothers and 
sisters. He won the respect of one of the best 
business men in our town, who employed him 
in his store at a liberal salary. Will plodded 
on steadily, doing his duty in his modest sphere, 


36 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


and looking for no reward but the smile of his 
mother and the comfort of her little ones. 
Surely he should have escaped the blight of the 
doctor’s influence. But such was not the case ; 
little by little the evil seed was sown and it 
did not fail to take root. 

Harry Felton was the pet of our neighbor- 
hood, and gray-haired saints shook their heads 
as they saw him riding with Dr. Armstrong day 
after day. “ He will do the boy no good to say 
the least/’ Harry’s teacher said to Mr. Felton. 
But the father, like many another easy-going 
man replied, “ I don’t believe in being scared 
before you are hurt.” And as may be supposed, 
his scare came too late to do any good. 

But the meanest proselyting that the doctor 
did was in the case of old John Peterson. The 
poor man was under heavy obligations to him, 
and he felt obliged to concede to anything the 
doctor said. If he ventured an opinion in favor 
of his belief in God’s word, he was quickly 
silenced by that heavy frown that could come so 
quickly on the doctor’s usually smiling face. 
Sometimes when I have watched these sudden 
changes in his countenance I have been reminded 
of the prince of evil who can so suddenly trans- 
form himself into an angel of light. 

David Fardell thought himself a deeply tried 
man. Like many a small farmer who toils for 


THE INFIDEL’S PUPILS. 


37 


daily bread, he never could by any means “ get a 
little ahead.” If the season was favorable and 
the crops good, there was sure to be some sick- 
ness in the family to keep the pocket-book 
empty. His wife was a good religious soul, and 
while he grumbled and snarled because there 
was always some offset to their good luck, she 
would answer in her sweet way, “ Indeed, David, 
I think that we have great cause to be thankful 
that we can see our way through at all.” But 
when the children grew larger, matters did not 
mend, and expenses were heavier. Everything 
they undertook seemed to be a failure, and that 
without any fault of theirs. So David began to 
think his lot a hard one, “ Others get along 
who are less deserving,” he often said to himself, 
and he was out of patience with his wife’s way of 
seeing things ; for Mrs. Fardel 1 would still re- 
count their mercies. Dr. Armstrong was their 
family physician, and while he listened with 
politeness to Mrs. Fardell’s views, he mentally 
sided with David, and when alone with him he 
would say, “Fardell, you ought to prosper and 
it takes more imagination and more credulity 
than I can muster to call every drawback a 
blessing.” 

The doctor’s reasoning pleased Fardell more 
than his wife liked, and she told him the story 
of a dying man who facing his future said, “The 


38 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


Lord has been too lenient with me.” David 
shrugged his shoulders and answered “I don’t 
care, I’d like to try prosperity for once. I think 
that poverty sours a man’s disposition and spoils 
his temper till he is fit neither to die nor to 
live.” 

“ Don’t, David, don’t talk so,” said Mrs. Far- 
dell, then added, “ I am both sorry and ashamed 
if I have failed to show that one can be con- 
tented with the allotment of Providence, even 
though he sends poverty and toil.” 

“ 0 you ! yes, you seem contented, and I 
believe you are, but ” and he added to him- 

self as he took his hat and went out of hear- 
ing, “She is only a woman. It takes a person 
like that doctor to see things straight.” 

But that doctor had as yet no trials, and he 
could not tell how they would affect him. It 
had been an easy matter for him to sit in 
judgment on old Daniel Fardell. Before long 
he will be found without comfort, found where 
neither his unbelief nor his philosophy can aid 
him. 


CHAPTER V. 


A DEEP SHADOW. 

How often do we see a summer day suddenly 
clouded, the blue sky and the sunshine speedily 
shut from our view by the black thunder-clouds! 
How often, too, our prosperity and our happiness 
change as suddenly! A day in Dr. Armstrongs 
life finds him experiencing both the outward dis- 
comfort of the natural storm and the inward 
burst of grief. 

It had been a warm sultry day, and the doc- 
tor had been unusally busy. Many demands 
had been made upon his time and skill by the 
people from the village and from the country as 
well. In the middle of the afternoon there 
came a short respite and he was really needing 
rest and recreation. But a farmer rode to the 
door in haste, and Dr. Armstrong was called to 
ride five miles to set a broken bone. A little 
boy had fallen and broken an arm and otherwise 
injured himself. The doctor grumbled a little 
on his way to see the little sufferer, but hi3 
ride home was very unpleasant, and he felt de- 
cidedly impatient and irritable. The wind beat 
in heavy gusts against the top of his carriage 
39 


40 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


and it seemed that the vehicle must capsize. 
“ Plague take that youngster,” he said as he 
reached to lower the carriage top, “It is a pity 
he hadn’t broken his neck instead of his arm ; 
then I needn’t have gone out there in this storm. 
He will grow up into a stupid old countryman 
like his father ; another one to add to the herd.” 

The doctor drove on, nursing his ill humor. 
More than once he half decided to stop at the 
next house and wait till the storm was over, 
and yet something impelled him homeward. 
Angry and tired as he was, he could not fail to 
see the grandeur of the scene around him. The 
huge old trees that spread their branches so 
majestically a few hours ago, and formed such a 
grateful shade as he passed, now swayed in the 
wind and bent toward each other in the attitude 
of fierce combatants. He wished himself home, 
he longed to see the lights of the village ; but 
the way seemed interminable. At last he 
reached the outskirts of the town, and was 
urging his horse forward, when a familiar voice 
called out, “Doctor, is that you? ” 

“Yes, it is I,” he answered, none too pleas- 
antly, thinking that there was another call for 
him. But this time the case was beyond 
his skill. His own beautiful boy, his bright 
Harry, had fallen from the top of the stair, and 
had broken his neck. 


A DEEP SHADOW. 


41 


His mother still held him in her arms. She 
had picked him up, nor would she suffer him to 
be taken from her. Her face was very white 
and her features were set, but she was very 
quiet, very calm. The doctor would not believe 
the truth until his own senses convinced him 
of it. Then he said sneeringly, “ And this is 
the work of God, of your kind, good Father in 
heaven you talk so much about.” 

lie looked hard at Laura for an answer, and 
she bowed assent. He forgot her suffering so 
far as to add other unkind words. Laura bore 
it as long as she could, and then she said, look- 
ing down upon the little sleeper, “ He is better 
so. Your own words have convinced me of 
that, and have completed my submission. Bet- 
ter to die pure and innocent in childhood than 
to grow to manhood, only to disown and disre- 
gard the Being who upholds us all.” 

The doctor looked fiercely at her, the veins 
in his temples swelled, and he had every ap- 
pearance of an angry man. Laura did not 
look at him, her eyes were fixed on the still, 
calm face before her. Her husband arose and 
strode to and fro in the room. He was having 
a terrible conflict with himself. 

“It is useless to look to you for comfort, 
Laura,” he said at length. 

“ It is useless to look to any one but to him 


42 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


to whom you refuse to look. There are times 
when no human power can avail, and we should 
cling closely to the divine Hand.” 

The doctor groaned. In the midst of his own 
sorrow, he remembered the words he had 
spoken concerning the other little boy. 
“Pshaw!” he said to himself, “ it has nothing 
to do with Harry’s fall. And what was that 
child compared to mj child ? What is such a 
father’s grief to mine ? ” 

Meanwhile, little Harry’s body had been 
given over to gentle, skilful hands. The 
small limbs were straightened and the form as 
well as the face soon wore the unmistakable 
look of death. 

The whole thing was very sudden, very sad ! 
I had seen Laura and the child that very after- 
noon, and I could not realize that he was gone 
until I saw him lying in the darkened room, 
wearing that strange beauty that death often 
sets upon the face of infancy and childhood. 
Then, all at once I felt as Laura did; the 
little one was better as he was. And as I stood 
looking at him, I said, “Dear little lamb, he 
has been early sheltered ! ” 

I forgot the doctor’s presence until he replied, 
“ He was sheltered here, fondly sheltered.” 

He was about to add, “ Perhaps he is nowhere 
now,” but he could not bring himself to say 


A DEEP SHADOW. 


43 


that of the beautiful child, lately so full of life 
and love. lie could not bear to think of him 
as far away from his arms, but as he looked at 
the sweet face he was more than half persuaded 
that Harry was with Jesus and the angels. 
This is what all Christians feel and they find 
sure comfort in thinking that their dear ones 
are with him whom they love best of all. But 
Dr. Armstrong felt that if his child was really 
in heaven he was in the keeping of One whom 
he had made his enemy, and in a country where 
they could never meet. Even if glad that his 
darling was happy, he was lost to his father 
forever. His anguish broke out in words. 

“O Kezia, 0 Laura! You can’t feel this 
death as I do, or you could not be so easily com- 
forted.” 

His tone was not scornful now, only very sor- 
rowful, and Laura cast a quick, sympathetic look 
at him : “ My dear husband,” she replied, “ that 
is what religion does for us, it soothes our sor- 
rows and quiets our fears. If this separation 
from our dear boy will only lead you to the 
feet of the Lord Jesus, I shall rejoice more at 
your life than I sorrow at his death.” 

“ My life ? What have I now ? ” he asked. 

Laura’s face paled, but she answered firmly, 
“Hot life, but death.” 

“You are a harsh judge,” he replied, coldly. 


44 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“ And this is life eternal, that they might know 
thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom 
thou hast sent,” Laura repeated in a low, sweet 
tone. 

Nothing more was said for a long time. 
There was a deep stillness in the room. I 
believe, I always did believe, that at that time 
the doctor felt some drawings of the Holy 
Spirit, that the recording angel waited one little 
moment hoping to write over against Dr. Arm- 
strong’s name, ‘ Behold he prayeth ! ’ However, 
the opportunity passed, the struggle was over. 
There had been a struggle, for the doctor broke 
the stillness, unintentionally speaking his 
thoughts : 

“No, God has robbed me, I will not submit 
to him.” 

We heard the words distinctly, though they 
were ground through his teeth. 

Laura started from her chair, then settled 
back, sighing heavily. 

“ Dr. Armstrong, do not add to Laura’s dis- 
tress by such remarks,” I begged. 

“ I am not distressed of course,” he answered 
bitterly. 

“ Yes, you are, and I am sorry for you. You 
said you would not submit to God: that state- 
ment is as false as it ig unreasonable ; for some- 
time you will; you must submit to him ” 


A DEEP SHADOW. 


45 


He was about to reply when Laura pleaded, 
“ Please drop the matter for the present. I 
want to gather up my scattered senses and gain 
all the comfort I can from communing with 
God.” 

“Very well, Laura. I will not break in 
upon your quiet, I can suffer alone,” said the 
doctor. 

Laura reached out her hand and placed it in 
his. The mute appeal touched him ; his hand 
closed over hers and quiet reigned. 

Days followed, days of quiet sadness. The 
little one was coffined and buried and all this 
time the doctor kept his word ; he suffered in 
silence. When all was over, he looked really 
ill, but to all anxious inquiries he replied, “I 
shall do well enough.” 

Still, it was months after Harry’s death before 
he seemed his old self, and then it was on the 
event of becoming father to a second son. 


CHAPTEE V I. 


ALICE IN AMOY. ' 

Pekhaps by tliis time you are wondering 
what had become of our poor dear Alice. And 
of Alice I must write, for she is never even to 
this day long absent from my mind. On his 
death-bed Wilfred charged her to do some good 
in the world to counteract his evil work, and 
she was so intent on observing this injunction 
that she tarried but a short time with us after 
his death. She resolved to join Helen in 
China, and no persuasion of ours could detain 
her, though we did not very strongly oppose 
her. We wished her attention to be diverted 
from her grief. A missionary and his wife 
were about to return to their labors in China, 
and this was an excellent opportunity for Alice, 
as she would have agreeable company on the 
long, tedious voyage. So we parted from her 
never to meet again in this life. The last look 
we had of her showed a pale, calm face half 
hidden by her heavy crape veil. The next 
sight will be in eternity; then not dark, but 
white robes will be upon her and her face will 
be radiant with heavenly joy. 

46 


ALICE IN AMOY. 


47 


Alice arrived safely at Amoy, and the sisters 
were once more in each other’s arms. She ap- 
plied herself with great zeal and energy to fit 
herself for her work. Neither her sorrow nor 
the debilitating heat of the climate was allowed 
to interfere with her labors. A letter from 
Helen received six months after her arrival 
reads thus : 

“ Nothing daunts our dear Alice. I never 
saw so indefatigable a worker. When we urge 
her' to rest she replies, ‘ The time for labor is 
short, and the rest I shall be sure to get in the 
hereafter ! * It seems delightful to have her with 
us, yet she is very, very quiet, hardly like her 
old bright self. But why should I mourn for 
the past joyous life, since the new life is so 
much nobler ! I am sure she is even dearer to 
me than when we were in the old home to- 
gether. There is but one drawback to my con- 
tent, Alice is frail, and she grows more frail 
every day.” 

I read the last sentence with a start of fear. 
And when I read the letter to mother I left that 
part out. I could not bear to add to her anx- 
iety, and I could see, despite my efforts to blind 
myself to the fact, that mother would soon end 
her earthly pilgrimage. One trouble already 
weighed heavily upon her, the infidelity in the 
famity. Turn away from it she could not ; for- 


48 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


get it she could not ; and indifference was 
quite as impossible. I wonder if a sinner like 
Dr. Armstrong has any idea of the enormity of 
his sin? I also wonder if knowing the grief, 
the misery he causes, he gloats over it. Per- 
haps be has said among his fellows what 
Milton makes his arch-fiend say: 

“ To do aught good will never he our task, 

But ever to do ill our sole delight.” 

I wonder, I say, if any human being has such 
a purpose. It seems that there are such, and 
Dr. Armstrong must be among the number. 

And all this made poor mother’s life very 
sad. “ Alas ! ” she once said, “ that a child of 
mine should be wedded to an infidel ; that a re- 
lation so tender as that of husband and wife 
should exist between such a saint and such a 
sinner! Better, a thousand times better, 
Kezia’s lot, though it should embrace all the 
poverty and all the loneliness that ever falls to 
the lot of a single woman.” 

But there was no need for mother to call up 
in her imagination such a dark picture of my 
future ; for I am not given to loneliness, and my 
parents, by an act of their own, left me with a 
competency. To be sure, my disposition might 
have changed, or my property might have 
taken wings, but I see no danger of the latter 
calamity while I have a good title to two hun- 


ALICE IN AMOY. 


49 


dred acres of the best land lying at the foot of 
the Catskills, and hold not a few bonds and 
mortgages beside. Any woman with less than 
the modicum of brains could be comfortable 
under these circumstances. Sometimes I won- 
der what dear old father would say if he could 
see the interest money I handle. But he has 
gone to more enduring riches, in the other 
world. However, my heart is not set on my 
worldly store. I had a purpose when I first 
fell heir to my father’s property to which I 
have steadily adhered. You shall know at the 
proper time what that purpose was. I have the 
past and the present so mixed in my mind that 
I may often anticipate in my story without de- 
signing to do so. I think it is hard to keep 
from beiug confused in this way, living as I do 
in the old home nest, when all the other fledg- 
lings have long since flown. I must necessarily 
live ^ much in the past. The events that trans- 
pired twenty-five years ago stand out more dis- 
tinctly than those of last year or last month. 
The very walls, the familiar furniture, seem to 
rehearse bygone scenes to me. I suppose when 
people come here they think if they do not say 
it, “ Miss Fleetwood is a stingy old maid, not to 
get rid of that old furniture and those dim, 
faded carpets.” But they little know what 
these things are to me; I could better bear the 


50 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


loss of all my money than these dear things 
that I alone can appreciate. I look around and 
remember when one thing and another was pur- 
chased. I remember that Laura chose this car- 
pet years ago, and the chintz cover on the 
lounge was Alice’s fancy. Dear, dear, how long 
those eyes have been closed to earthly sights ! 

But it was of Alice that I began to write. 
Helen’s letter told me that she was feeble, but 
her own letters told nothing to alarm us. I al- 
ways thought that Alice was not aware of her 
condition, for it was not her wont to keep a 
secret from mother or to disguise a fact from 
any one. A year and a half passed and Helen 
wrote again : 

“Alice reminds me of a pale lily at whose 
root gnaws a blighting insect. She droops day 
by day. Oliver and I cannot shut our eyes to 
the fact. After all, Kezia, her sorrow has never 
left her, or else the first shock was too terrible 
to be soothed by the healing hand of time.” 

Here, then, was a fact for us to face. Alice, 
after making the sacrifice necessary to labor in 
a foreign land, would not live to do the work 
she hoped to do. Perhaps the compassionate Lord 
had planned to take her away to himself that 
he might heal with heaven’s light and heaven’s 
love the spirit too sorely bruised for earth’s jar- 
ring sights and sounds. Why the good Father 


ALICE IN AMOY. 


51 


suffered her to be so sorely wounded is known 
only to himself. Perhaps long ere this Alice 
herself knows why this was, for Jesus hath said, 
“ What I do thou knowest not now ; but thou 
shalt know hereafter.” And the Psalmist ex- 
claims “ I shall be satisfied, when I awake, 
with thy likeness.” We who are sufferers and 
toilers in this life ought often to think of these 
promises. We ought to remember that for 
every sorrow be sends us, he has a thousand 
joys in waiting, that over against the tears we 
let fall, stands the bliss of eternity. Knowing 
all this, I am sure that Alice has long since 
been comforted. 

The shorter my poor sister’s time grew, the 
more faithfully she labored. Many a native 
woman and child seemed to be irresistibly 
drawn to her pale, sad face, and once at her 
side, words were not wanting to win them to 
Christ. Many heard from her the way of life, 
and learning, embraced it. 

“ Her words drop like dew, and like dew 
they refresh,” Helen wrote. “I feel that I 
must not lose one of them, for I know they will 
soon cease to fall.” 

And they did cease soon. Three years from 
the time Alice left us, they made her a grave 
there at Amoy. And there she rests, there by 
the ever sounding sea lies our gentle Alice, 


52 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


once the pet and darling of our home. Such 
was God’s wisdom and I must not question it. 
Let our griefs bow us as they may, our lips 
must refrain from asking, “What doest thou?” 

Alice’s miniature lies by me on the table. 
It is a round, girlish face taken when she was 
happy Alice Fleetwood. All the tears that I 
have dropped upon it have not dimmed the 
luster of the large, dark eyes nor washed the 
rose from her cheeks. It looks gay even to 
thoughtlessness. Alas I how strangely and how 
suddenly her thoughtfulness developed. Dear, 
sweet child-face ! It lies here with my Bible, 
and I am afraid I would miss one as soon as the 
other. This is something I must guard against, 
for while sister’s picture is a pleasant sight to 
my eyes, the other is my chart, my lamp, my 
law, my hope, since it alone opens and illumines 
the way to life eternal. I must watch and 
school this heart, this too human heart, to 
dwell less on earthly affections and be more and 
more swallowed up in the love of God and the 
anticipation of heaven. 


CHAPTER VII. 


FATHER AND MOTHER GONE. 

Mother grew very feeble before Alice’s 
death. Then it seemed that she had only been 
waiting for that event; for she heard the news 
quietly and said “ My own days are few. I shall 
soon join my dear child in a world that lies 
beyond these scenes of parting and death.” 

She soon left her easy chair for her bed, and a 
few short weeks closed the scene. The steps had 
been very gradual. The busy, bustling mother 
had been very different from the quiet mother 
in the chair, and the mother on the sick-bed 
was more different still. But I could not be 
reconciled to the mother entering into rest, and 
there was still another step ; there was to be 
the entire absence of her bodily presence. 
Then it seemed that our house was desolate. 
Laura came often and we tried to comfort father 
in his loneliness. He appreciated our efforts, and 
called us good daughters, but it was easy to see 
that home was home no longer. 

When a couple have lived long years in the 
enjoyment of each other’s society, life is scarcely 
life without the other self, and often the separa- 

53 


54 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


tion is very short. Fifty years of wedded life 
are followed by a few months of waiting, and 
then comes the endless life together in heaven ! 

Here my mind unwillingly wanders in a train 
of unpleasant thoughts, and my pen as unwil- 
lingly follows. I am forced to remember that all 
reunions do not take place in heaven, but there is 
another and an awful place of meeting ; and 
not only that, but not all who part here upon 
earth shall spend eternity together. Their lives 
have been as far apart as light and darkness, 
and in the life to come each soul will go to its 
own place, one to the kingdom of light, the 
other to the kingdom of darkness. 

Thank God, that though this prospect, yea, 
this certainty was in our family, yet with our 
dear parents there was nothing of the kind to 
fear. They had one faith, one hope, one desire. 
Father often spoke of joining mother with the 
certainty that one speaks of meeting another at 
the end of a short and safe journey. Dr. Arm- 
strong always winced at such an allusion, and 
no wonder, since he could not and would not 
indulge in the hope of meeting many who were 
dear to him in this life. For my part, I think 
that meeting is one of the sweetest consolations 
afforded us, and there are so many and such 
rich consolations that we find it difficult to say 
which is sweetest. And I suppose if one were 


FATHER AND MOTHER GONE. 


55 


able to j udge between them all, he would choose 
the one that helps him most. One is weary 
and he longs for rest ; one feels the tyranny of 
his evil nature and he longs for a state of exis- 
tence that shall be entirely sinless ; another still, 
is tried by the malice of enemies and the faith- 
lessness of friends, and he thinks of the place 
where the ‘wicked cease from troubling; ’ and 
j cl another is racked by pain and enfeebled by 
illness and he longs for the country whose in- 
habitants never say I am sick. And so we 
might keep on enumerating ; but one verse of 
Holy W rit is so full, so complete, that it alone 
will suffice: 

“And God shall wipe away all tears from 
their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, 
neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be 
any more pain: for the former things are passed 
away.” 

The former things. How much that implies! 
How clearly it shows that tears, death, sorrow 
and pain are the lot of mortals : add to these 
the sin, the shame, the fear, the weariness, the 
disappointments of life, and we have a long and 
dark catalogue ; but, thank God, heaven is free 
from them all ! I doubt if any one who expects 
to gain heaven has not, before reaching my age, 
experienced longings to be already there. 

My lot is far from being a hard one, many 


56 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


might envy it, and yet I feel a strong desire to 
depart and be forever with the Lord which is 
far better. But I would not leave my task un- 
finished. I would struggle on, stumble, if 
need be ; but always reaching forward, if I may 
only reach the goal. And when I am weary I 
like to remember that the ‘ race is not to the 
swift, nor the battle to the strong.’ I know 
that the mistakes of my life are many, yet out 
of those mistakes good has come to me, for I 
have tried to make them steps by which to 
mount higher. All well meant effort tells on 
our future, and nothing is entirely lost. Let us 
be brave then; let us be of good courage though 
our efforts are often misinterpreted. This is the 
way I talk to myself at such times. I say, 
“ Kezia Fleetwood, you meant well, did you 
not? ” and when my conscience answers in the 
affirmative, I say, “Leave it all with the Lord. 
If you can see wherein you have erred, profit by 
the lesson; if not, drop the matter from your mind.” 

It is not good to look upon our mistakes with 
too much self-reproach, neither is it good to 
view our good works with too much com- 
placency. This is one of the many things I 
learned through father’s teaching. Yes, one of 
many. How much I am indebted to him for 
moral training, and I feel now that I must 
speak to him about difficult matters ! 


FATHER AND MOTHER GONE. 


57 


Well, this brings me back to my story. 
Mother died in the springtime when everything 
spoke of the resurrection, and father died in 
the early autumn amid the first faint whispers 
of decay. So it was easy to persuade ourselves 
that it was only ripeness that we beheld in 
nature, and the harvest that death gathered 
was as ripe and ready. We little thought, that 
spring, when the buds swelled into leaves that 
before those leaves fell to the earth we would 
be orphans. Both Laura and I felt father’s loss 
very deeply; I think her grief was as great as 
mine, notwithstanding I was alone while she 
had a family of her own. She always depended 
upon father for help to bear her trials, and after 
he was gone, it seemed to comfort her to talk 
about him. On the day of his burial she said 
to me, “ I always could get consolation from 
father. He never failed to point out some rift 
in the clouds, though ever so small. I must 
turn to you in his stead, Kezia.” 

Now I always did fear that Laura looked for 
too much help through human aid, so I said 
gently, “ I will be all to you that I can, Laura, 
but do not fail to seek your consolation directly 
from Christ. All that we can receive from his 
followers is as a drop in the bucket in comparison 
to the help we may receive from him.” 

Laura sadly replied, “ Ah, Kezia, you little 


58 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR 


know how difficult it is to realize these 
precious truths with some one always ready to 
cavil at them. I do trust the Lord Jesus for 
salvation, I do try to look to him for daily 
strength, for patience and every needed grace ; 
hut when I say anything like this to the doc- 
tor in answer to his thrusts at our blessed doc- 
trine of salvation through Christ, he says, ‘ Oh 
that man has been dead eighteen hundred years. 
You Christians are the most credulous set I ever 
saw.’ If he stopped there I would not care so 
much, but, Kezia, he says such dreadful things 
and often I can’t find words to answer him. I 
say to myself, ‘ He lives, I know that my Re- 
deemer lives.’ Kezia, you don’t know, and 
thank God every day of your life that you 
don’t know, what it is to be intimately related 
to an unbeliever.” 

“ Poor sister,” I said pityingly, and her tears 
started afresh. After she wept awhile, she 
said, “ Well, the end will come sometime, per- 
haps soon. I shall be glad for myself, but my 
poor husband, what will become of him? I 
tremble for him. If those who simply neglect 
God are lost, what will be the condemnation of 
one who designedly goes about to work in op- 
position to him ? It is a terrible admission for 
me to make ; but even if I blind my eyes, the 
fact remains the same.” 


FATHER AND MOTHER GONE. 59 

What could I say to comfort her? I prayed 
for the right words to speak to her, and finally 
I said, “ I don’t see that you can do anything 
more than to live the religion of our Master. 
That will be the best way to convince the doc- 
tor of its reality.” 

“ I try to, Kezia, but as I have just said, it is 
very hard to do.” 

“Yes, I see that is the ground we have just 
gone over,” I replied, and I did not offer any 
further advice. I sat thinking how hard her 
lot was, when she drew my attention by saying, 

“ Kezia, do you know that I am afraid to 
keep this child ? Sometimes I wish that he 
were safe in heaven with little Harry.” 

“ Why, Laura ! ” I exclaimed without think- 
ing. 

“ I do indeed, and I pray earnestly that if he 
will not honor God in this life, he will be taken 
before he is accountable. And the doctor 
knows it. Something led that way once and he 
challenged me to deny the charge. I answered, 

‘ 1 cannot deny it, but what difference does it 
make? You say that there is no efficacy in 
prayer.’ 

“‘Well it shows what you would do. And 
you believe in it.’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ I answered, ‘it shows that I can deny 
myself the purest, sweetest earthly blessing, the 


60 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


loving smiles and tender embraces of my little 
one, that I may know that sooner or later he 
will become an inhabitant of heaven.’ 

“ He was very angry, but I could not help it. 
I must be true, I must at least try to be true. 
I grope on blindly, the way is such a net work 
of trials, yet often God reveals himself to me 
as a loving, tender Father and I thank him and 
take courage.” 

We were still talking when Dr. Armstrong 
entered. “Well, Laura,” he said, “it is time to 
go, or shall I leave you here and go home with- 
out you ? ” 

“ Leave her, please,” I said. 

“With this consideration, then, that you stop 
crying. You know your head won’t stand it,” 
he said to Laura. 

After he was gone I took little Kalph in my 
arms, and said, “ Yes, let us stop crying, and let 
us take comfort from the thought that though 
our friends have left us, they are where their af- 
fections have long led them. Draw up mother’s 
chair and let us look matters calmly in the 
face. There must be a right way to look at 
every situation, however hard; there must be 
some best way, and let us look for it.” 

“Yes, Kezia, all may be righted but my hus- 
band’s wilful unbelief. I know he forces him- 
self on that terrible course. I can see it, I could 


FATHER AND MOTHER GONE. 


61 


see that he was afraid of my prayer about 
Ralph.” 

1 sighed, for I was sorry that she went back 
to the doctor. I found I could say nothing to 
help her. “ Oh,” I thought, “ if she would only 
talk of something or of somebody else ! ” I 
tried to turn the subject and I said, “ Laura, do 
you remember when we were children we 
thought the worst thing that could happen 
would be to lose father or mother? Now both 
are gone and still we are upheld. Ought we 
not to be thankful? ” 

“ Yes,” assented Laura, “ but they have gone 
in the faith. Suppose the doctor should die, 
what could comfort me then? ” 

Here it was again. I looked at my poor 
sister. She had that sorrow-haunted look in 
her eyes that goes straight to one’s heart. 

“I am sorry for you,” I said, “ but you can- 
not change matters any as I can see. Some 
things you must take straight to the Lord and 
leave them there. Is not this trouble such a 
case ? ” 

“ Perhaps. Sometimes I feel so. But to- 
day when father was lowered into that deep 
grave, I knew that if it had been the doctor I 
would never see him again, never. I could 
bear even the endless separation, but his end- 
less misery ” 


62 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


She stopped, unable to say more. I wondered 
if that precious husband of hers ever found even 
in his most flattered and applauded moments 
one tithe of the wretched pleasure it would take 
to offset this poor woman’s anguish. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE WRETCHED HOME. 

If I had been given to loneliness I would have 
suffered much from it the year after father left 
me. Laura seldom came over, partly because 
little Ralph was sickly, and partly because the 
doctor began to throw obstacles in the way of 
our being together. He was jealous of her af- 
fection for me and for the old home. 

So, even then, I was alone as much as I am 
now. Rarely was there anyone with me except 
Patty, and sleep overtakes her soon after dark. 

How well I remember that first week after 
father was buried ! The month of September 
was wearing on, the moon was full and I used 
to sit till midnight at one of the back windows 
overlooking the orchard. Yes, even the small 
hours of the morning often found me there. 
As you may suppose, I was as really dreaming 
as if my eyes had been closed in sleep. The 
monotonous sound of the katy-dids quieted my 
spirit and led me to that state of mind in which 
troubles and sorrows vanish and memory is 
occupied only with the bright, happy past. 
Nothing broke in upon my reveries. If an ap- 

63 


64 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


pie falling from the nearest tree startled me, it 
was only a momentary interruption ; possibly 
it might slightly change the current of my 
thoughts, but nothing roused me. I cannot re- 
call many of my thoughts, but they were not 
idle ones. God was very near to me, and that 
is why I remember that week above others. I 
grew strong in those days. I think that never 
before had I such a clear conception of God’s 
love and care. Never before had the relig- 
ion of Jesus Christ seemed so sweet, so blessed, 
so adapted to our needs. Never before had I so 
felt the truth, the necessity of immortality, of 
the resurrection of the dead. A thousand 
books against it, with a Dr. Armstrong back of 
each one, could not have robbed me of my hope. 
I felt that soul-hunger for some lasting good, 
that assurance that whatever of peace, of 
knowledge, of love or friendship we experi- 
ence in this life, was merely the bud of prom- 
ise, the blossoming would be in heaven. I 
felt the eternal within me, the sure proof of a 
measureless duration. I realized that my soul 
came from God, that it was distinct from my 
body, which though also God’s creation, is 
earthly, and binds itself to that which it may 
not hold. I realized how childish are our 
thoughts and aspirations, how our low desires 
dwarf and cripple us, and I am sure that at that 


THE WRETCHED HOME. 


65 


time I made no small progress in the divine life. 
I have not since then been constantly on the 
mountain-top, but I know that I never can be 
set back of that blessed experience. I hope to 
add daily to the Christian graces as the apostle 
Peter recommends. And this we shall do if we 
have been made “partakers of the divine 
nature,” Yet none of us grow as we should 
grow, and I think we often feel this and long to 
drop the body and all the hindrances of our 
human nature. The spirit may be willing while 
the flesh is weak, but in heaven nothing shall 
retard our progress. How precious the thought ! 
It is possible that there are Christians with 
whom life goes so smoothly that they do not 
understand what I am saying, but there are 
many others whose lives are constantly jarred 
and rasped by circumstances over which they 
have no control, and who have to pray earnestly 
that their faith fail not. Well it is for such 
tried ones that Jesus has told them, “in the 
world ye shall have tribulation,” and well that 
he added, “but be of good cheer; I have over- 
come the world,” meaning, as he has overcome, 
so may we, in and through his strength. Yet 
for all these cheering words that are recorded 
for us, the frailty of our nature often causes 
fear and depression of spirits, and we take our 
Bibles glad to see that our memory has not 
5 


66 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


deceived us, and the precious promises are still 
there. Was there ever a book like the word 
of God? There is something for every one’s 
encouragement, be the trouble what it may, and 
he who does not turn to it as a thirsty man goes 
to a fountain, not only robs himself, but he is 
guilty before God for neglecting his law and 
refusing the comfort he offers to help in sorrow 
and distress. 

I am glad to say that Laura’s little Bible was 
her constant companion. It always opened at 
one of two places. One was where she read : 
“ My grace is sufficient for thee,” and the other, 
“ Save me, O God ; for the waters are come in 
unto my soul. I sink in deep mire, where there 
is no standing: I am come into deep waters, 
where the floods overflow me.” 

The one verse was her answer to the other. 
One was her prayer, and the other was God’s 
promise to her. Poor Laura, poor dear sister! 
That she loved her husband I never doubted, 
neither did I doubt that he loved her. But 
what a chasm there was between them ! How 
fast it widened even here, and how it will 
widen in the other world is bej^ond any concep- 
tion of ours! I think Laura realized how much 
their lives were to diverge, and the thought 
caused her much misery. 

I crave the pardon of my readers if I seem 


THE WRETCHED HOME. 


67 


to repeat anything in regard to my unhappy 
sister; my feelings are so called forth when I 
think of all she suffered that I may weary you 
at times. However, I shall endeavor not to 
dwell too much upon our personal feelings. 
The doctor used to say, “You women make a 
great fuss about a little thing,” but I never 
believed that he considered it a little thing. I 
think there were times when he felt sad because 
they could not sympathize with each other, in 
this most momentous matter ; and yet nothing 
but his pride and stubborn will prevented him 
from yielding to the reasonable claims of God 
upon him. His very uneasiness proved this. 
It would seem sometimes that he wished to 
show that he was not uneasy, and every effort 
of this kind aroused our suspicion. 

I do not' mean to repeat many of our con- 
versations with him; most of them would be 
far from profitable. Far rather might I place 
before the reader the simplest words of some 
humble child of God, for they would have in 
them truth and purity. But for certain reasons 
I may insert some of the doctor’s words. For 
I wish to show the difference between Chris- 
tians and unbelievers; that when they meet 
with troubles one has an anchor, and the other 
has nothing; one calmly waits and trusts, in the 
storm of life; the other is driven before it. 


68 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


It had been a day of trial at Dr. Arm- 
strong’s. The doctor himself was nearly crazed 
with neuralgia; Ralph was sick; and Laura 
was nearly worn out with trying to care for 
both. I was sent for, and I am glad to say that 
I was well, nor was I lacking in hope and cour- 
age. 

Laura met me saying, “ I declare, Kezia, it 
does one good to look at you. You look as if 
life was worth living. The doctor says it is 
not.” 

He spoke up saying, “It is not. Life is a 
miserable farce.” 

“ Why, doctor, what a view for you to take, 
you who are so self-reliant and so hopeful,” I 
said. 

“ W ell, I say it. I am not speaking of my 
own troubles; I can bear them, though perhaps 
they set me thinking. People are born into the 
world yd thou t any wish or will of their own, 
and more than half are born to poverty, toil, 
pain and wretchedness, the others have the 
luxury and ease for their share. Where do you 
see any over-ruling Providence minutely guid- 
ing the affairs of men? Things are all awry. 
How are you who have so much faith going to 
answer me ? ” 

Laura looked toward me and said, “ Take it up, 
Kezia. I have tried all day to justify the ‘ways 


THE WRETCHED HOME. 


69 


of God to men,’ but the doctor thinks he has 
refuted everything I have said, and I am tired.” 

I always dislike to tell anything where I 
think I came out ahead, but I will repeat our 
argument, and if there is any praise let it be 
given where it is due, to the Spirit which Christ 
promised should tell us what to say. 

So I replied, “You ask us how with all our 
faith we can explain these facts. In the first 
place, all are not facts. When we come to any- 
thing that our faith cannot explain, it does not 
fail to cover it. We do not pretend to see the 
why nor the how of God’s dealings with us, for 
we have learned to ‘ walk by faith and not by 
sight.’ We know that this over-ruling Provi- 
dence is our heavenly Father; we feel that he is 
all- wise, all-powerful, all-gracious. We know 
that he loved us ever before we loved him, and 
we trust him, we rest on his word as you would 
wish Ealph to rest on yours, even though he 
could not understand your purposes. I need not 
make the application. I will merely say that if 
we knew all God’s plans and agreed with them, 
where would the trust be ? If we could thus 
understand, or as the Scriptures say, ‘ if we could 
find out God,’ we would be like unto him, we 
would all feel that we are gods and we would 
not be as humble and obedient as we are now.” 

“ What are you going to do when we get to 


70 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


heaven ? Are yon going to have anarchy there ? 
Your Bible tells you that you shall be like 
Christ, and Christ said that he and the Father 
are one.” 

“ No, there will be no anarchy in heaven. W e 
will be free from our sinful natures before we 
enter there. Pride and self-will cannot enter 
there. We shall resemble Christ as a little rill 
resembles a great river. We may grow and 
grow while unnumbered ages run, but we can- 
not approximate to his greatness. We shall be 
like him, it is true, but it will be a miniature 
likeness. That will be bliss enough for us.” 

“Laura quoted Milton just now. He says there 
was pride in heaven, that Satan contended for 
power.” 

“ Milton tells us more about Satan than the 
Bible does. But there is no use in prying so 
far into these things; I think that God has 
revealed to us all that is necessary to our growth 
in grace. It surely does not concern us to know 
Satan’s past history, but it does concern us to 
escape the ways and means he uses to catch our 
souls.” 

“ What ways and means?” 

“ Many are the ways and means. Apart from 
the struggle of good and evil in our own souls 
we are constantly coming in contact with outside 
influences that are evil. Legion would be the 


THE WRETCHED HOME. 


71 


name for these, but chief among them are 
scoffing and ridicule, especially when they 
proceed from a source that is bad only in that 
particular. Irreligion, like every other sin, 
succeeds best when it wears the outward form 
of respectability. The tippler is not so apt to 
stop and take his dram, if at the saloon-door 
lies a man who has just been kicked out ; neither 
is there much danger from the influence of a 
rough, foul-mouthed man, who declares that 
there is no great and good God over us, no 
heaven, no hell, no hereafter.” 

“I see. I see the drift of your remarks. Of 
course you must be personal. But I thought 
you were going to prove the comforts of religion ; 
take up the points I disputed, and so on.” 

“Let me see. You say I am personal, and I 
have only the homely old proverb to offer, ‘if 
the coat fits, put it on.’ As to the comfort that 
religion affords, I should think you could see 
the proof of it in the difference between your 
conduct and your wife’s. When trouble over- 
takes you, you fret and fume all the time, you 
know you do. Now Laura bears her troubles 
meekly, submissively, because she knows that 
she cannot have any trouble unless God permits 
it, and she prays for patience, and receives an 
answer. Even the one great trial of her life 
was not allowed to drive her from her refuge. 


72 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


You have no such help as this. The pain, the 
loss, the worriment, that overtake you is not 
from a Father’s hand. To you it comes through 
luck or chance, something that may or may not 
continue the same through your life. Then, when 
all is done and suffered here, Laura looks forward 
to everlasting happiness ; you to an end like the 
beasts, fitting, perhaps, for any one who will so 
blunt and dull his perceptions. But however 
fitting, it is none the less untrue. The dead, 
small and great, shall stand before God. And 
again, ‘ The hour is coming, in the which all 
that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and 
shall come forth ; they that have done good, 
unto the resurrection of life; and they that have 
done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation.’ ” 

I paused, for I felt that I could add nothing 
to the solemn words of the Scripture, and the 
doctor replied: 

“ All right, believe it if you want to. But 
what did I say that is not true?” 

“You said that half the people in the world 
are born to poverty, toil and wretchedness, or 
something like that. Now, not all who are poor 
are necessarily so. Many are poor because they 
are improvident, wasteful and idle. Those who 
really seem to be born to poverty are often 
contented with their lot like good Mrs. Fardell, 
for instance. Then toil is no curse; with 


THE WRETCHED HOME. 


73 


natures such as we have, work is a blessing. 
Pain is often the direct consequence of our own 
carelessness. You know that right well. And 
wretchedness is caused by sin or forbidden fears, 
which are sinful since we have the promise that 
1 all things work together for good to them that 
love God.’ We may be sorrowful and not sin, 
but the Christian has no right to be wretched.” 

The doctor answered, “O, Kezia, your argu- 
ments are good enough for those who believe as 
you do, but they do not affect me.” 

Laura turned her great sad eyes upon him, 
and she said, “You ought to believe as she 
does, and you know you ought.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


FACING SNEERS. 

The closing years of David Fardell’s life 
brought him no more prosperity, nor more 
sweetness of character. He claimed that his lot 
had been a hard one, and that he had little to 
be thankful for, and as frankly admitted that he 
had nothing to look forward to. When smitten 
down with his last sickness, his family expected 
that he would send for Dr. Armstrong as usual, 
but he objected. 

“ Don’t send for him,” he said, “ I never want 
to see his face again. I wish I had never seen 
it” 

He constantly wanted his wife with him and 
once when alone with her, he faltered out, 

“ Pray for me, Julia.” 

Mrs. Fardell shed tears of joy at this request, 
and she answered, “ I will, David, I will pray 
earnestly and gladly. I will beseech our Father 
in heaven to have mercy upon you for the sake 
of Christ the Saviour of sinners.” 

And she did pray for him and with him, but 
it is uncertain that the poor man had any reason 
to hope. Yet when he died his wife had not 
74 


FACING SNEERS. 


75 


that terrible conviction that he was lost. That 
word “ perhaps !” It has kept so many sorrowing 
friends from mourning without hope, and it kept 
Widow Fardell from utter despair. 

Dr. Armstrong was much relieved when he 
knew that another physician had been called. 
There were some things before him that he had 
reason to fear and he had often dreaded this 
very death-bed. He had even pictured the pale, 
sorrowing face of Mrs. Fardell. But now when 
all was over, he merely said, “ Well, so the poor 
old fellow is gone ! I wonder if he died like a 
man, or if he went out whining for mercy.’ 7 

This was said to old John Peterson in the 
hope of fortifying him against a like time. The 
old man turned away without any reply, and 
the doctor did not know the effect of his speech. 
Afterward when Peterson thought it over he 
concluded that the doctor admitted the need of 
mercy, for all his sneering words. And so it is, 
in the unguarded moments of these would-be 
unbelievers, they let words fall that convince 
others that they believe more than they disbelieve. 

The Fardells found themselves in a sad, per- 
plexed state. Creditors began to look out for 
themselves. There were several small debts, a 
heavy bill on Dr. Armstrong’s books, interest 
due on the mortgage, and a note for a hundred 
dollars held by a rich, but tight fisted old 


76 KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 

bachelor. There was no money due from any 
quarter, and no one of the family was receiving 
wages. However, Clara, the eldest daughter, 
had the promise of a summer school, and the 
boys thought they could carry on the farm work; 
but how to meet their obligations was a question 
that vexed the family day and night. I sus- 
pected that there would be trouble and I told 
Mrs. Fardell to come to me if she needed money. 
Accordingly, one morning she sent for me. I 
knew the trouble had come, for there was an 
anxious look on the face of the child messenger. 
So I just tied on my sun-bonnet and followed 
her. When I reached the house Abe Simmons 
sat there with a stern look on his face. Some 
of the children had been crying and Mrs. Far- 
dell looked troubled, while Clara’s face wore a 
look of defiance. She had lost all hope and was 
ready to dare the worst. I hope I shall never 
again see her look so. 

“What can I do for you?” I asked Mrs. 
Fardell. 

“ If you can take the note that Mr. Simmons 
holds against us, it will be a great relief,” she 
replied. 

“ How much is it ?” I asked. 

“ It was written for one hundred dollars, it is 
one hundred and seven including the interest. 
Mr. Simmons insists upon being paid at once 


FACING SNEERS. 


77 


and lie wants the sorrel horse. You know that 
would break up our team for we have only two 
horses.” 

“I’ll take the note,” I said. “Just wait 
fifteen minutes, Mr. Simmfms, and you shall 
have your money.” 

I had it lying in my bureau and it took but 
a few minutes to fetch it. I gave Simmons the 
money and took the note. Then seized by a 
sudden impulse, I tore it in pieces and turning 
to Mrs. Fardell, I said, “There I that note will 
never trouble you again.” 

I think I did it as much to shame Abe Sim- 
mons as anything else, but it is due myself to 
say that I have never regretted it. The hard 
look left Clara’s face, she came to me and took 
my hand, saying, 

“I do believe in human nature. I thought a 
little while ago that I never could, that all the 
talk about kindness and generosity was a hum- 
bug.” 

I looked over to Abe Simmons, and to his 
credit be it said that he blushed for shame. 
After a feeble good morning he made his way 
out and I think every one breathed easier; I 
know I did. I never told of my gift till this 
blessed minute, but the Fardells did, and the 
story added not a little to my popularity. And 
Dr. Armstrong, not wishing to appear less gen- 


78 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


erous, sent them a receipt for the bill so long 
due. I must say that it is the best thing I 
ever knew about Dr. Armstrong, but perhaps I 
am wrong in settling it that he did it for the 
sake of appearance. I will take that back and 
let him have the benefit of the doubt. 

I lent the Eardells another hundred without 
interest, and then they began to see their way 
through. I never yet derived as much pleaure 
from any money as I did from those two hun- 
dred dollars. I felt more than paid when I saw 
those young people holding up their heads once 
more. 

It is sweet to have the friendship of the 
worthy poor. There are noble hearts environed 
by poverty, and he who would experience real 
joy will lend them a helping hand. Life has 
many hardships without poverty, and those 
who contend with that, carry a double load. 
To all such I would say, be brave, be cheerful 
if you can. Life is short and the blessed here- 
after is long. God, to whom the kingdom of 
heaven belongs, is no respecter of persons. Nay, 
he hath chosen the poor of this world, his heart 
of infinite love hangs over them, and woe to us 
who are able to help them and will not. How 
shall we meet that sentence, “Inasmuch as ye 
did it not to one of the least of these, [my 
brethren] ye did it not to me.” 


FACING SNEERS. 


79 


That was the beginning of better times for 
the Fardells. This money had been needed a 
long time and poor David Fardell had borrowed 
it, changing from one to another as he was forced 
to make payment. Probably he would never 
have thought of coming to me, and if he had, 
he would have said, “ I don’t want to be beholden 
to a woman.” 

Clara succeeded well with her school, and 
Jennie was all the help her mother needed with 
the housework. The three boys strengthened 
their hearts and hands and carried on the farm 
work nicely. Early in the winter George the 
eldest son, brought me twenty-five dollars 
toward paying the money I lent them. He 
looked very manly, and I respected the youth 
more than ever. I knew neither he nor his 
brothers had a warm overcoat, and I handed 
the money back to him, telling him to put it to 
that use, and I would consider that part of the 
debt paid. I thought I would give them the 
seventy-five too, but I would wait and see how 
they helped themselves. 

I am glad to say that not the slightest taint 
of infidelity remained in the family. I think that 
it had been much talked of during their father’s 
last sickness, and he had warned them against 
it. All the children went regularly to church. 
They hired a pew and more than one heart was 


80 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


gladdened as Sunday after Sunday there was not 
room in the Fardell pew for all that came, and 
the one who happened to be last had to be 
accommodated with a neighbor. 

All this was duly reported to John Peterson 
by his daughter, Rachel. She was her father’s 
housekeeper and general adviser in worldly 
matters, but she had cause to regret that she 
was unable to influence him in more serious 
concerns. She had received a religious train- 
ing from her mother who died before Peterson 
went over to Dr. Armstrong’s way of thinking. 
I remember v^ell that Rachel Peterson came to 
church as regularly as the Sabbath came around, 
and little Rachel was always with her. Thus 
the child contracted a liking for God’s house 
that strengthened with her years. Long ago 
her name was added to the church book, and 
better yet, her consistent Christian character 
gives proof that her name is written in heaven. 
Rachel had never given up hope of her father’s 
salvation, and she took particular pains to tell 
him of the happiness of the Fardell family even 
in the midst of their sorrow. 

“That’s astonishing,” he said in reply. “I 
always supposed that they’d go right to pieces 
when David was no longer there to bear the 
heaviest end. It’s astonishing, I must say.” 

“Providence seems to carry the heaviest end 


FACING SNEERS. 


81 


now. He has raised up friends for them, and 
given them new hope,” replied Rachel. 

Her father was silent for a while, then he 
said, “ I have been thinking for some time, ever 
since David died, in fact, that I’d like to get out 
of this unbelieving business. I’ve got an awful 
hankering to be where Rachel is. She’s gone 
to heaven if there is a heaven, and I don’t want 
to be shut out from Rachel.” 

Rachel, tbe daughter, was overjoyed at this 
speech. She did not stop to criticise its con- 
struction, nor the narrowness of its views. She 
heard only that he was weary of unbelief and 
anxious to meet his wife in heaven. 

She answered quickty. “I am so glad, so 
very glad, father I Go to church and learn the 
way of salvation over again; then embrace it as 
heartily and simply as a little child.” 

“What will Dr. Armstrong say ? ” 

“Never mind what he says. You can’t 
afford to perish everlastingly just because Dr. 
Armstrong wants you to.” 

“ W ell, you know we owe him a good deal of 
money, and I could never stand it if he should 
drive us to raise it all.” 

“ Let him do it if he wants to. There’ll be 
enough left for you, and I don’t want the price 
of soul-blood left on my hands. Beside, some 
one else will take the mortgage.” 

6 


82 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“Who? Abe Simmons? ” 

“No, not Abe Simmons. You just do right 
and by the help of the Lord I’ll find somebody 
to help us if the doctor turns on you.” 

“I believe I will, I believe I’ll just venture. 
But, Rachel, the doctor has an awful power over 
me.” 

“Keep out of his way, and if he comes here 
I’ll face him. He has no power over me. I 
despise his whole character, much as it might 
amuse him to know it.” 

So Peterson went to church with his daughter, 
and nothing that he could have done would 
have caused more comment. Little of it 
reached the old man’s ears, however, and he 
began to feel quite easy. He saw nothing of 
Dr. Armstrong till Saturday evening, when 
there was the well known step upon the gravel- 
walk. 

“He is coming, Rachel,” said the weak old 
man cowering. 

“Let him come, and I reckon he wont come 
again in one while.” 

“Good evening, John. Good evening, Rachel,” 
said the doctor as he entered. 

Being answered there was a short pause. 
Then the doctor said, “Been to church, I hear.” 

“Yes, I thought I’d like to go with Rachel. 
We had a first-rate sermon.” 


FACING SNEERS. 


88 


“What was the text?” 

“I don’t remember. What was it, Rachel?” 

“‘Because sentence against an evil work is 
not executed speedily, therefore the heart of 
the sons of men is fully set in them to do 
evil.’ ” 

“Well, what did the parson make of it?” 

Peterson looked at his daughter again, and 
she answered. “ He made out that wicked men 
would, because of delayed vengeance, grow more 
and more daring, and strengthen themselves in 
defiance of their Maker ; and that God did not 
arrest them either because he gave them time 
to repent, or because they had not ye't filled up 
the measure of wrath. The consequence is, 
that there is no change in them. They keep 
on till they are done with earth, and hell opens 
to receive them, that once their hope is ex- 
tinguished, there is a great gulf that they 
may not pass over; that no message of warn- 
ing even, can come back to those left upon 
earth.” 

“Well, I declare, you have given me the 
whole idea in a nutshell.” 

“Be careful or you may some day have a 
more realizing sense of it, and on a larger 
scale.” 

Peterson was alarmed; the doctor was angry, 
but Rachel was perfectly cool. She set her last 


84 KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 

patch of the week’s mending with the utmost 
precision, and acted as if she had said nothing. 

“I want you to understand, Rachel Peterson, 
that you must be careful how you insult me,” 
he said in an angry tone. 

“Yet you have insulted every member of 
the Christian church for long years.” 

“I have never insulted you.” 

“Yes, you have. You have sneered in my 
face when you saw me going to the house of 
God, but I don’t mind that. You have led my 
poor old father astray, and you entered the 
house to-night for no other purpose than to 
laugh him out of going to church to-morrow. 
Look at his white scattered hairs and tell me if 
I am tamely to submit to his being robbed of a 
last chance of heaven. I am not afraid of you, 
and I will speak out. You have held the rod 
over my father’s head, but you need not think 
to hold it over mine.” 

The doctor made a few cutting remarks, 
threw out a few threats, and then left the house. 

“How did you dare, Rachel? He is terribly 
offended,” said her father. 

“He can’t hurt us. Miss Fleetwood will 
take the mortgage; I have already ascer- 
tained.” 

“Will she! Well, I am glad; I’ve suffered a 
good deal having it where it is.” 


FACING SNEERS. 


85 


The old man lay down that night with a 
lighter heart than he had known for years. And 
at the breakfast table the next morning he told 
Eachel that the day seemed to him “something 
like the Sabbaths used to be.” 

“Poor father l” she replied. “I hope you 
have at last escaped from the ‘snare of the 
fowler.’ ” 


CHAPTER X. 


FACING DUTY. 

It was seldom that I went over to Blake’s. 
Somehow I had dropped the family without 
realizing it. Often when we fail to influence 
people as we hope to do, we lose interest in 
them. I am ashamed to say that is just about 
what I did in this case. Of course, I did not 
cease to pray for my Sunday-school scholars, 
and I occasionally talked with them. But see- 
ing no effect from either, I began to grow weary 
of both. 

Blake was one of those men who try me. He 
was always talking about his bargains, and ac- 
cording to his story, he got his groceries cheaper 
than any one else. Perhaps he did, perhaps 
the dealers let him have the goods cheaper in 
order to be rid of him. I am sure I would be 
almost willing to give them away in preference 
to hearing him haggle over them. There was 
nothing rough and bad about the man’s conver- 
sation, but, dear me, he could talk all day about 
nothing. 

Mrs. Blake, as I have already said, had a 
great deal of negative goodness in her life and 


FACING DUTY. 


87 


conduct. I liked her, though I should have 
liked her much better if she had possessed more 
decision of character. I find very little pleas- 
ure in talking to a woman who never has an 
idea or an opinion of her own. I get so weary 
of the oft repeated “John says,” or “Jim says,” 
or “Jake says.” Perhaps it is because I am 
unmarried, but I fancy if I were married I 
should be the same old Kezia. I would keep 
my own individuality, not yielding up judgment 
and conscience. Poor Mrs. Blake made a great 
mistake in not judging for herself in some 
matters. If Blake could buy his sugar a half- 
cent on the pound cheaper than his neighbors, 
there was no reason why his wife should not 
order her household in regard to spiritual mat- 
ters. I cannot help censuring her for neglecting 
to come to the front and face her duty. I had 
often talked to her about this very thing, but to 
no purpose. She always replied “Well, John 
says — ” and if I must tell the truth I was a 
little disgusted. 

Well meaning people often do get disgusted at 
less than this. They weary of efforts carried on 
against such indecision more than against down- 
right opposition. Perhaps that is why we have 
the charge from the Master, “ In your patience 
possess ye your souls.” It is easier to be brave 
than to be patient, to be actually engaged for 


88 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


the good of our fellow- mortals than to be long- 
suffering toward their faults. I said Mrs. Blake 
tried me; perhaps I tried her. It is quite prob- 
able that I did. One can say too much as well 
as too little, and happy is that person who 
knows when he has said just enough. I fear I 
do not always stop at the right point. Father 
used to say, “ Kezia is not apt to say too little ; 
and that remembrance often makes me mistrust 
my own judgment. 

But however Mrs. Blake and I may have mis- 
understood each other at times, we were none 
the less friends, as any serious trouble on either 
side proved. At one time six months passed, 
and I did not once cross her threshold, although 
we were near neighbors. I meant to go, of 
course; but the days and weeks slipped by and 
were counted into months, until my call to go, 
came sharp and sudden. 

“ Mother is very ill and she wants you to come 
over,” said Alfred Blake one March morning as 
I sat at my breakfast. I was at once frightened, 
and my heart smote me sorely. I hurried over 
to see her and I found that she was indeed very 
ill. She reached out her hand to me, calling 
me, Kezia, which she seldom did. I took the 
hand tenderly ; it was very thin and small, and 
I said, “Why, how is this? How long have 
you been gick?” 


FACING DUTY. 


89 


“ I was not really sick until yesterday, at least 
I did not know it till then, I knew that my 
cough was getting worse, but I said nothing 
about it. The hemorrhage frightened me.” 

“ Hemorrhage! ” I cried. 

“Yes,” exclaimed Alfred, “she had a bad 
hemorrhage yesterday,” and his eyes rested 
sadly upon her. 

“I have been so lonely all winter,” Mrs. Blake 
went on, “I don’t know when I have had so 
little company, and no ambition to go out.” 

“I am sorry, very sorry. If I had known, I 
would surely have come in,” I answered. “ I 
can’t see why I stayed away.” 

“ I know why; I am no company for such as 
you, Kezia.” 

There was a meekness in her tone that made 
me ashamed. I was unable to answer, and 
when I did speak, I said, “We are often remiss 
in our duty toward each other, but I trust that 
Jesus was with you. He never fails us if we 
ask him to abide with us and comfort us.” 

“He has been with me, but he has not been 
as near as if I had honored him more in my life. 
I have been an unprofitable servant, very unpro- 
fitable, ” she repeated slowly and sadly shaking 
her head. 

“Hone of us come up to our privilege,” I an- 
swered. 


90 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“Well, I suppose that is true, but few have 
been such a cumberer of the ground as I have 
been. At least I should have tried harder to 
save my boys.” 

Alfred was still present, and his head bowed 
instantly. After a short pause she continued, 
“ If my death should, through the guiding hand 
of Providence, do what my life had failed to 
accomplish, how gladly will I yield it up ! But 
I must go, however they may be affected by my 
death.” 

At this Alfred rose and left the room. There 
were tears in his eyes, but there was no move- 
ment of bis features, he held his head rather 
higher than usual as he passed me. 

“ There it is ! I can’t reach them now. Kezia, 
don’t you be afraid to speak out when your con- 
science tells you to. I feel that I had many 
messages to communicate that never left my lips. 
I pray God that he will forgive me these and 
like sins for the Redeemer’s sake. You must 
pray for me and for mine, that is what I want 
to tell you, and why I have had such a longing 
to see you and talk with you.” 

She looked into my face as if she expected a 
great deal of help. I cannot tell you how small 
and unworthy I felt. I realized that I had let 
opportunities slip that would never again be 
mine ; for now talking wearied her. Opportuni- 


FACING DUTY. 


91 


ties to help and be helped, for “he that watereth 
shall be watered.” I felt that I had been un- 
faithful to my Master, that I had not heeded the 
apostle Paul’s injunction: “We then that are 
strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, 
and not to please ourselves. Let every one of 
us please his neighbor for his good to edifica- 
tion.” And I said within my heart, “ Kezia 
Fleetwood, you are terribly human!” God 
humbled me before her whom I had lightly 
esteemed, and I asked meekly, “shall I pray 
with you now ? ” 

“Yes, please.” 

I do not know what I asked in my prayer, 
but I think I must have prayed as much for 
myself as for her, for she said as I rose from my 
knees, “ I did not charge you with neglect, or 
lack of Christian kindness. I wanted to see 
you, but I wanted you to come as a favor, not 
as an obligation.” 

“My heart charges me with neglect, Mrs. 
Blake; I knew you had care to keep you at 
home and I had leisure. I knew that you are 
not very strong, and I have health and 
strength.” 

“ I have been thinking,” she said, “ yes, you 
have health and means and leisure, you have 
courage too. You are well equipped for the 
Lord’s work.” 


92 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“You make me feel that my responsibility is 
very great,” I said. 

“ I do not mean to say that you do not acquit 
yourself nobly, after all these considerations. 
On the contrary, I think you do.” 

She was candid, she meant it all, but I could 
not think that I had acquitted myself nobly. 
Ever since that day I have been restless unless 
I was doing or trying to do something for the 
cause of Christ. That is what leads me to write 
these pages. May my words not fall short of 
doing some good, be it ever so little ! 

Blake came in and* said, “I hope you will 
talk a little courage into my wife. She has 
almost made up her mind to die, and that is the 
worst thing she can do. I tell her to keep up; 
keeping up is more than half the battle. Now 
there’s Edward, he was awfully sick last year, 
but he kept up his grit. Of course he took the 
doctor’s stuff, but he took the doctor’s advice 
too, and that was, ‘Fight it down, fight for your 
life, Ed.’ Well it was a hard fight, but Ed 
whipped, Ed did. Sarah, here, can’t bear the 
doctor because he has peculiar views about the 
Bible, and all that sort of thing. Well, he’s a 
little out of the way, I suppose, but my boys 
think he is about right.” 

A heavy sigh came from Mrs. Blake and she 
looked as if she would like to say something to 


FACING DUTY. 


93 


convince her husband that the doctor was more 
than a little out of the way. But she closed her 
eyes wearily as if she knew that the effort was 
too great. I did not know whether or not it 
would be well to take up the cudgel, then 
remembering what Mrs. Blake had just said to 
me, I concluded not to hold my peace. So I 
spoke, “I do not wonder that Mrs. Blake objects 
to Dr. Armstrong, for he has done her family 
an incalculable injury. The doctor is my 
brother-in-law, but when I think of all the evil 
he has done, I have hard work not to hate him. 
But for him, infidelity might never have come 
into our neighborhood. But for him our poor 
Wilfred might have had hope in his death. 
There are others I might mention who have 
left scarcely any hope, and others still to follow 
on in the same dark way. He has been a curse 
to the place. People talk of his skill, and his 
business does seem to be curing the body and 
killing the soul. But the time will come when 
his skill will not avail to keep the body alive, 
then the poor soul will stand naked before God. 
Naked, because not clothed with Christ’s right- 
eousness, and it can have no righteousness of 
its own?’ 

Just here I heard a stifled laugh in the 
adjoining room, and I suspected that the boys 
were there and laughing at my earnestness. 


94 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


After a while I said, “Has Edward entirely 
recovered ? ” 

“Well, I don’t think he is as rugged as he 
used to be, but he is middling well,” his father 
answered. 

“I would like to see him. I haven’t met him 
for some time,” I said. 

Blake knew that Edward would not care to 
meet me, but he said, “Well, I’ll go and call 
him. I guess he is around the barn.” 

“ May I help myself to a drink ? ” I asked. 

I needed the water, though I might have 
waited till I reached home. 

“Go right into the kitchen and help your- 
self,” Mrs. Blake replied. 

I went rather quietly and found, as I supposed 
I would, both Edward and Alfred sitting .there. 
They looked a little abashed; probably they 
would have gone out if they had been warned 
in time. 

“ How do you do, Edward ? ” I said, extend- 
ing my hand. He rose and shook hands with 
me, but his manner lacked cordiality. 

“I have not seen you since your illness. Is 
it your fault or mine? ” I asked. 

“I am sure I can’t say. Perhaps it is as 
much your fault as anybody’s. You have not 
been here in a long time and mother has missed 
you.” 


FACING DUTY. 


95 


“ I am sorry that I staid away so long, but 
even now you were not coming in to see me. I 
remember when I used to come here you and 
Alfred would hang round my chair and show in 
many ways that you were glad I came. You 
were young boys then, and I was a young 
woman; now you are young men, and I have 
grown older and perhaps not so agreeable to 
look at, but I am better qualified to help you 
than I was then. You certainly need more than 
ever the true frietid I tried to be. If I have 
fallen off in my regard for you and my interest 
in you, is it not your fault ? And I am sure 
that however much we may have changed 
toward each other, my duty to you has not 
changed. How do I know how far God is going 
to hold me responsible for your unbelief? How 
do I know when I have cleared my skirts, in 
other words, delivered my soul ? I thought that 
my influence over you was gone, and conse- 
quently I have said little to you of late.” 

“ What makes you think now that your in- 
fluence is not gone?” 

“Because God has put it into my heart to 
try and help you ; to try with more earnestness 
to turn you from your error. Your mother 
has just shown me that I have a great respons- 
ibility.” 

At the mention of his mother’s name, Al- 


96 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


fred’s look changed, and he asked, “You don’t 
think she will die, do you? ” 

“No, I do not think she will die, but I do 
think she will soon change time for eternity. 
Only the wicked die. The humble follower of 
Jesus, though weak and stumbling, will waken 
into a newer, better life, a life that has in it no 
death, nor fear of death.” 

“Then you think that mother is all right? ” 
This from Alfred and with more concern in 
his voice than he meant to show. 

“How is that?” inquired Edward. “Mother 
is not one bit like you. She never tackled 
anybody for doing wrong. Sometimes she has 
said, ‘I wish, boys, that you would believe the 
Bible’ but she never made any fuss.” 

“We are very differently constituted,” I 
replied, “and so we act differently. Your 
mother is a timid, retiring woman, and if she 
says ‘ Boys, I wish you would read and believe 
the Bible,’ perhaps she made a greater effort 
than I would make to say much more. I have 
thought, and I think still that if she had 
labored harder with you she might have 
held you. But God only knows how acceptable 
has been the little she has said for him. One 
thing I know, she has never led you wrong. 
She may have more than once yielded points 
contrary to her convictions, but ‘he knoweth 


FACING DUTY. 


97 


our frame.’ Jesus knows our temptations and 
he knows our sorrow when we have been over- 
come by evil. He knows also when we wilfully 
reject him or disbelieve him. What can I say 
to such persons, but to repeat his own words: 
‘He that believeth and is baptized shall be 
saved; bat he that believeth not shall be 
damned.’ And I charge you as one who must 
give an account for her influence, I entreat you 
as your friend and former teacher, to consider 
well how you turn away from God and his 
mercy.” 

I left them and returned to their mother. 
“Did you talk to the boys?” she asked, and 
when I answered in the affirmative, she said, “I 
am glad. Don’t forget my boys, my poor 
boys.” 

I staid nearly all day with Mrs. Blake and 
when I reached home I sat down by Patty’s 
kitchen fire to warm. I was speaking of Ed- 
ward and of his stubborn fight with his illness, 
when she replied, 

“ Humph ! he ain’t for old bones, and perhaps 
it is just as well. If all them infidels who 
ain’t going to be any better would drop out of 
the world before they make others worse, it 
would be a mighty good thing.” 

“Why, Patty,” I replied, “they are in the 
Lord’s hands, you must not dictate to him.” 

7 


98 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“That’s so, and I ought to have said, ‘it ’pears 
so to me,”’ she replied humbly. 

Patty was no great talker; on the contrary 
she said little; but when she did speak she 
always had something to say. After a few 
moments’ silence, she went on, “I am sorry for 
poor Mrs. Blake. If she had not been pulled 
the wrong way, she would have been a first-rate 
woman. Lots of women don’t half come out as 
they ought to.” 

Patty, too, had never married, and she 
thought she was wiser than all her old friends 
who had. Certainly, she seemed very contented 
and happy, which is more than many people 
are whether married or unmarried. I never 
crossed her in regard to her pet ideas. They 
were generally pretty sensible ; always harm- 
less. But I am not satisfied in my own mind 
that one has a right to congratulate herself that 
she has lived for herself alone. I think no one 
can lay down a rule that either wedded or sin- 
gle life is right, but circumstances will shape 
so as to show what one’s duty is. I have no 
concern of mind that I have not done right, nei- 
ther can I help wishing that Laura had not 
married, while on the other hand, I love to think 
of Helen who is a happy wife and the mother 
of two noble sons. 

There, I am drifting away to my own folks, 


FACING DUTY. 


99 


when I ought to he telling about that poor 
woman, who, though feeling that her life had 
been a failure, still clung to the cross of 
Christ and died with his name on her lips. 
Mrs. Blake has gone, and her work must be tried. 
It may be of wood, hay or stubble and so be 
burned, but shall not she be “ saved, yet so as 
by fire ? ” 


CHAPTER XL 


THE GRUMBLER CURED. 

Hot long after Rachel Peterson’s battle with 
Dr. Armstrong she came to see me about taking 
the mortgage on their farm. I was quite ready 
to do so, and I made arrangements to have it 
transferred as soon as possible. I was quite 
sure that the doctor thought me in his way some- 
times ; however, he said nothing to me, and I 
did not care whether he was pleased or displeased. 
When I saw the poor brow-beaten old man hold 
up his head and look Dr. Armstrong squarely 
in the face, I felt more than repaid for any effort 
I had made. 

“ Good!” I mentally exclaimed when I saw 
the meeting. Was I wicked to enjoy it? If 
so, I must plead guilty to more still. 

I said to Rachel, “ I am glad that your father 
shows Dr. Armstrong no more respect than is 
due him, and that is very little. He asks more 
than other men and he deserves less.” 

I often thought of Laura when I spoke 
against the doctor, but sometimes I was so 
incensed against him that if he had been my 
own husband I should not have spared him. I 
100 


THE GRUMBLER CURED. 


101 


felt then that it was righteous indignation ; but 
looking back on it, I fear that there was a 
little flavor of spite in my conduct. I was not 
perfect then, nor am I now, but with my gray 
hairs have come changes. Now I feel toward 
him not scorn, not anger, not even indifference, 
but pity. Whether this change is due to a 
growth in grace, or in part due to the doctor’s 
changed condition I cannot tell. When he 
1 flourished like a green bay tree ’ there was not 
much to awaken pity. True, there was his 
danger of eternal misery which all Christians 
ought to think of, but he carried such a high 
head and seemed so indifferent to the feelings of 
others, that he aroused all the old Adam there 
was within me. Now all is very different. But 
I must not anticipate, there are long, long years 
between the then and the now. Beside, I started 
to write of Rachel Peterson and her father. 

They had much difficulty in raising the inter- 
est money even after I held the mortgage, and 
though I assured them that I should not distress 
them for it, the first of April was a sore dread 
to them. I often went to see them, for I was 
anxious that Peterson should become a true 
Christian. So, thinking it possible that some 
words of mind might help on the good work, I 
not infrequently brought the conversation to 
bear upon the subject of religion. 


102 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


One evening Rachel and I sat on the porch. 
We were watching the setting sun and talking 
of God and his goodness, in that day and night 
were still crowned with mercies, that the day 
as it returned brought with it new hopes instead 
of the dead hopes of yesterday, and each night 
brought its own peace and rest. It had grown 
late ere I realized it, and I was a half-mile from 
home. I started on a little disappointed that I 
should not see Peterson who was later than 
usual in returning from his work. As I reached 
the gate, I saw him lying on the ground. He 
was very pale and when I spoke to him, he 
answered in a feeble voice. I called to Rachel, 
and together we helped him on his feet and 
supported him till he sat in his old-fashioned 
arm chair. 

“ Oh, I am so glad it is night. The work has 
dragged so heavily to-day,” he said. 

“ Why do you work when you feel so badly ? 
You are no longer young and you should take 
care of yourself,” I remonstrated. 

“ As if poverty and its obligations took that 
into account. Fate is grim, I tell you,” he said 
somewhat bitterly. 

“ Have you not yet learned that Providence, 
not chance, not fate, rules over the affairs of 
men?” I asked. 

Rachel handed her father a glass of milk, and 


THE GRUMBLER CURED. 


103 


gave me an approving look, and I went on, 
“ Mr. Peterson, I lioped that long before this 
you had learned where to go when cast down.” 

“ Sometimes I am sure I do, but when I get 
discouraged I forget all about the new hope that 
seems mine when I have a bright day. Old 
notions are strong, Miss Fleetwood. It looks 
like the doctor often says, that life is all luck 
and chance.” 

“ Father, father, I am both ashamed and 
sorry to hear you say so,” spoke up his 
daughter. 

“ Well, Rachel, I am sick and discouraged. 
Yes, I am downright sick, sick enough to send 
for a doctor and here it is right in the midst of 
harvest.” 

“ Well, have the doctor,” and turning to me, 
Rachel added, “send the doctor over if you 
please.” 

“I had to pass near his house and I willingly 
attended to the matter. I dreaded the doctor’s 
influence upon him in his despondent state of 
mind, so I said as I gave the message: 

“Now, doctor, don’t say one word to John 
Peterson to influence him in the wrong direction 
and discourage him. I shall find it hard to for- 
give you if you do.” 

“ Give yourself no uneasiness, Kezia, I wash 
my hands of him altogether,” he replied stiffly. 


104 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


I left him wondering if he realized what had 
given rise to the saying he had just used, and 
whether he was not as much an enemy to Christ 
as Pilate himself. 

The next day found me again at Peterson’s. 
Kachel met me with a solemn face and said, 
“ Father is very sick, but the doctor thinks he 
has taken the case in good time, and there is 
no danger.” 

She took me into her father’s room. He 
spoke abruptly, saying, “Here.’s a pretty kettle 
of fish I The oats are down, and there they lie, 
and here I lie. It will be precious little money 
that I can scrape together for you, if those oats 
spoil ; I depended upon them, and I don’t sup- 
pose there is a man to be had for love or 
money.” 

“ I’ll see if I can send my men. I don’t think 
they are much hurried.” 

“ Well, Miss Fleetwood, you are very good, 
and I ought not to grumble so. But when a 
man has all he can do to get along when he is 
well, it does not add to his amiability nor his 
faith either, to be laid flat upon his back.” 

“ Sometimes it does,” I replied. “ Sometimes 
we see those who were restless and impatient 
under the usual amount of troubles, become 
calm and trusting under great and heavy 
afflictions.” 


THE GRUMBLER CURED. 


105 


“ That is queer reasoning. I don’t think that 
I would be affected in that way. ” 

I said nothing, though I thought it quite pos- 
sible that such disciplining was in store for him, 
and so it proved. The warm weather was over, 
the harvests were all gathered before Peterson 
left his room, and when on a rich October day 
he tottered oat to the barn and orchard, he was 
a wiser and a better man than he ever was 
before. I had kept a sharp watch over him, 
though I said very little to him during his ill- 
ness. I prayed very earnestly for the influence 
of the Holy Spirit, and I knew that if the Spirit 
led him to inquire what he must do to be saved, 
Kachel’s anxiety would overcome her reluct- 
ance, and she would speak wisely and right to 
the point. After he was better, I had no need 
to introduce the subject of personal religion, for 
he did that himself. 

He was sitting on the porch one afternoon 
when I went over. It was Indian summer now, 
and I doubt if in all the sixty years of his life 
he had ever looked on the scene around him as 
he did that afternoon. His language was lame, 
for he was not accustomed to worship God in 
and through his works. Nor could he borrow 
any expressions from the Psalmist, for he was 
unfamiliar with those fitting words. So he just 
said, 


106 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“ Miss Fleetwood, I didn’t know that every- 
thing about us was so pretty. I always grudged 
the time to look around and see that thorns and 
thistles are not all that grow untended. I have 
been a surly, thankless man, always looking 
down, and never looking up, except to watch 
the storm clouds. The blue sky, the gold and 
crimson of the leaves I saw as if I didn’t. 
What an ungrateful creature I have been! And 
it has all turned out about as you said, Miss 
Fleetwood ; I did learn to be patient when I 
was sick, or at least I learned more about 
patience than I ever knew before. First along, 
I didn’t have the least mite. I chafed and wor- 
ried and fretted and fumed, and Rachel said, 

‘ Be patient, father,’ and every time she said it, 
it ‘ riled ’ me. But when I began to realize that 
my chances were slim for getting up at all, I 
gave right up, and was real submissive, that is 
for me. And now in thinking it over, I see I 
was just like a child who is crossed and pun- 
ished. Now there’s Rachel ; there needn’t be a 
better child than she was generally, yet her 
mother had a hard time to make her obedient. 
I tell you, she was hard to conquer when she 
was little. Mother — I always called my wife 
mother just as Rachel did — well, mother would 
whip her a little, in hope that it would do. 
But, law ! it only made her more unmanageable. 


THE GRUMBLER CURED. 107 

Then she’d whip her a little more, and a little 
more, and sometimes she’d cry as hard as 
Rachel; but she wouldn’t give up for she 
knew the whipping was for the child’s good, 
and for the peace of both. We could always 
tell the instant the child was conquered, and 
then she’d say ‘ Me will be dood now,’ and how 
glad we would be that it was all over. Now, I 
reckon that is about the way God deals with us. 
In fact, I know it is, for Rachel found this in 
the Bible and read it to me: ‘Like as a father 
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them 
that fear him.’ So he must be glad when we 
don’t need any more punishing. 

“ Rachel is so happy that she sings all the 
time. She used to sing, ‘Hark from the tombs,’ 
or some such doleful thing to set me thinking*; 
but now she sings, ‘ How happy are they who 
their Saviour obey.’ I tell you, Miss Fleetwood, 
it makes a great deal of difference whether a 
man is pulling away from God or pulling toward 
him. I have got to pull pretty hard because 
my time is short, and I had gone so far away. 
Dr. Armstrong will laugh, most likely, but I 
don’t care, I don’t mean to give the devil a 
chance to laugh at me in eternity.” 

The old man was tired out and he leaned for- 
ward and covered his face with his hands. 
Rachel watched him tenderly, and as I saw 


108 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


how peaceful and happy she looked, I wondered 
if that other Rachel was not among the number 
who have joy in heaven over the repentant 
sinner. 


i 


CHAPTER XII. 


MORE SNEERS. 

Less than a year after Mrs. Blake’s death, 
Patty came in from a chat with one of her 
friends, and as she hung up her hood, she said, 
“I told you so! ” 

“Told what?” I inquired. 

“I told you Ed. Blake wouldn’t live long. 
He’s taken with bleeding at the lungs just like 
his mother. There’s no saving him.” 

I cannot describe my feelings. I was not ex- 
actly surprised, for I had noticed that Edward 
was far from well. But I saw a hard and 
pressing duty right before me. “ How am I to 
approach him ? ” was the question that haunted 
my mind. “ If he would only send for me!” I 
said to myself again and again, and if it had 
not been for Mrs. Blake’s dying injunction, 
“Don’t forget my poor boys,” I would have 
tried to dismiss the unpleasant and thankless 
task from my mind. Not that I find it unpleas- 
ant to speak for Jesus, not that I work for 
thanks; but my dear sister women, if you have 
never confronted a proud unbeliever, if you have 
never tried to impress the claims of the gospel 

109 


110 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


upon such a one, you cannot understand the sit- 
uation. 

“None are so blind as those who will not see, 
and none are so deaf as those who will not hear.” 
I proved the truth of these statements when I 
visited Edward Blake. I had tried and tried in 
vain to obtain any influence over him ; so it was 
with a faint heart that I was shown into the 
room where he half sat, half reclined. He was 
very surly, and I saw at once that he meant to 
have it out. When I looked at him, I thought 
of the words spoken to our Lord by the devils, 
“ Art thou come hither to torment us before the 
time?” He wore the most helpless and at the 
same time the most unrelenting look that I 
have ever seen upon a human face. He knew 
that I had come to plead the claims of God, the 
Lord, who is “the same yesterday, to-day and 
forever.” He knew also that his day of grace 
was past, that was the reason for the look that 
said so plainly, “ Why did you come ? I was 
miserable enough without seeing you.” What 
do you suppose I did? I broke right down 
and cried like a child. As soon as I could 
speak, I said, “ O Edward ! Edward ! Why will 
you so resolutely refuse the last offers of 
mercy? ” 

“ There are no offers of mercy to refuse. I 
am sad because I want to live. The dark, cold 


MORE SNEERS. 


Ill 


grave is not a pleasant place for a young man 
who should be full of hope, rich in health, money 
and friends. I love life, I hate death.” 

“Take the Christian’s view of death and that 
will change all,” I said. 

“The Christian’s view is all nonsense! ” 

“ Now, Edward, you know that is not true. 
Your words neither deceive yourself nor others. 
Your unhappiness is not caused by the prospect 
of endless sleep, but of endless misery. Be your 
true self and confess it. That will be so much 
toward a reformation.” 

“ I have no such confession to make.” 

This was said in a tone which belied his 
words, and I followed it up with a question that 
was not anticipated. “ Where do you think 
your mother is? Is she in heaven or is she no- 
where? Has she gone out of existence? Is 
she no longer capable of love and happiness? 
Have the worms, the mold, and forgetfulness 
claimed her forever ? Or, is her spirit in heaven 
with Jesus who redeemed her, and with all the 
‘just made perfect,’ happy now, and happier as 
endless ages run? What do you think? ” 

His eyes were fixed on me as I spoke. I 
could see that his feelings revolted from the 
thought of her passing into nothingness, and 
that he felt relieved when I presented the other 
view; so I listened for his answer. 


112 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“ I don’t know what to think,” he said. 

He immediately tried to recall his words by 
saying, “ Of course, it is pleasant to think of 
mother as somewhere and happy. It is none 
the less a delusion, no doubt. A1 and I don’t 
think as mother did. Get him to go over if you 
can, it won’t hurt him to go back to mother’s 
way of thinking. I sometimes think that if he 
believed that an unseen eye is upon him, he 
would not dare to do some things he does. I 
don’t need any scare to make me go straight. 
The only trouble is I shan’t live to show you 
what a man can do without having a whip held 
over him.” 

This was no new talk to me. It was as old 
as my knowledge of Dr. Armstrong’s views. 
He had filled the poor boy’s head with his un- 
belief and had trained his tongue to his argu- 
ments. But I did not tell him that it was an old 
story. I only asked to what bad habit Alfred 
was addicted. 

“ Intemperance,” he answered. “ I am both 
ashamed and sorry to see A1 go down so. He 
is much worse since mother died. We have 
kept it as still as we could, but I want to set 
some one on his track and bring him back to 
himself. I expected that the doctor would in- 
terest himself to save him from a drunkard’s 
grave, but I guess he hasn’t lost much sleep over 


MORE SNEERS. 


113 


it. Much as I admire Dr. Armstrong, I must 
say he disappoints me. 

“He does not disappoint me. I never saw 
any reason to expect him to help anyone to 
shun evil. He has plenty of opportunities, and 
he does not avail himself of them. If he had 
used half the energy to influence people in the 
right direction that he has used to start them 
in infidelity, we would have a different set of 
young men in our neighborhood. Dr. Arm- 
strong is emphatically the enemy of righteous- 
ness, in that he works against the influence of 
the Holy Spirit which alone can cleanse the 
heart. The stream cannot be pure 'unless the 
fountain is pure, neither can good deeds be the 
outgrowth of a sinful heart. 

“Dr. Armstrong is a moral man,” said 
Edward. 

“ He is the worst sinner I know of. He has 
to be outwardly respectable, else he would lose 
the estimation he covets, and he acts upon that 
principle. It is nothing but an ambition to be 
called sharp and shrewd that makes him so 
intent to rob God and his fellowmen. He robs 
God, because, he turns the hearts of his children 
from their Father in heaven, and they are left 
to reap the fruit of their own doings, which is 
everlasting death. ‘Ye will not come to me, 
that ye might have life,’ said our Saviour, and 
8 


114 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


again, ‘ He that believeth on the Son hath ever- 
lasting life ; and he that believeth not the Son 
shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth 
on him.’ There is no way of calculating the 
amount of evil that man has done. We all 
should be careful not to hinder the spiritual 
growth of any one, but he makes it his business 
to hinder the possibility of such a growth in 
many.” 

I looked at Edward to see if my words had 
made any impression, but he seemed wearied 
with my conversation, and I asked, “ Do I tire 
you, or do I only weary your patience ? ” 

“Both,” he said rather haughtily. 

There was nothing to be done, but to leave 
him, for the slight frown had deepened into a 
scowl. 

“I will go now,” I said, “but I will not cease 
to pray for you. If you want to see me again, 
let me know and I will come gladly.” 

“I dare say you mean well enough, Miss 
Fleetwood, but I don’t want to be bothered with 
that sort of talk,” he answered, a little softened. 

I lingered a moment, for I was under the 
impression that I would never see Edward 
again. I offered my hand and reluctantly 
turned away. Afterward I heard that Edward 
had said to the doctor, “Miss Fleetwood’s visit 
was most too much for me. I didn’t mind her 


MORE SNEERS. 


115 


words, but I could hardly stand her tears.” So 
what I was annoyed at as my weakness was, 
after all, the strongest weapon I had used to 
impress poor Edward. 

And so it often is. The heart wields a more 
powerful influence than the tongue. Whatever 
comes from the heart goes to the heart, and 
undisguised love and sympathy will waken an 
echo where well planned words fail. 

I did not repeat my visit to Edward Blake 
for I could hardly force my presence upon him. 
And yet, perhaps, I ought to have gone. Who 
knows when one’s whole duty is done? “Who 
is sufficient for these things ? ” 

To all appearance, my poor Sunday-school 
scholar passed away as he had lived. His 
death arrested Alfred’s evil course for a short 
time only, and Edward’s fears for him seemed 
well-grounded. To my distress, Alfred would 
not allow me to remonstrate with him. You 
may wonder that I tried to speak with him, 
knowing the rebuffs I would meet; but setting 
aside the interest I had in him, and the injunc- 
tion from his dead mother, I had this com- 
mand from my Master: “Go work in my vine- 
yard.” What are we doing to make the world 
better ? 

I asked Dr. Armstrong to speak to Alfred, to 
represent his physical danger, and he promised 


116 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


to do so. We had some warm words about 
Edward. Perhaps they did no good, certainly 
they did the poor boy no good; but I freed my 
mind, and for once the doctor knew what I 
thought of him. I never would say anything 
about him that I would not say to his face, and 
he knew that I was not afraid of him. I could 
not feel kindly toward that man, because I could 
see no disposition to amend. It was too bad to 
feel so toward Laura’s husband, but what was 
to be done? Wrong is never right though 
committed by the nearest friend. Neither is 
black white, though we shut our eyes to the 
difference between the two. Sometimes our 
eyes will open and the black will only be the 
blacker and the white the whiter because of our 
recovered vision. Think you that the con- 
demned at the judgment will not know whether 
they are guilty ? Let but a sudden fear of death 
take hold of a person, and he feels at once 
whether he belongs with the good or evil 
spirits. 0, my friends, remember that though 
your conscience may sleep it will waken, that 
though you may put excuses before your faults 
and those of your friends, the day will come 
when all will be revealed. I beseech you, then, 
be true to yourselves and to others. Real kind- 
ness, real friendship cannot fall short of this. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A DEEPER SHADOW. 

Laura’s little Ralph had never been strong 
like Harry. From his earliest infancy, it was 
evident that his life would be a short tale, soon 
told. It was hardly necessary for Laura to fear 
the effect of evil training upon this child, so 
surely did he appear to be passing away from 
her. One slight struggle with disease was all 
that was necessary to take him from her, and 
that struggle soon came. Scarlet fever was 
quite prevalent, and Ralph took it. Dr. Arm- 
strong attended many little sufferers and saw 
them restored to health, but Ralph was among 
those who were carried away by the disease. 

One afternoon the doctor came in. He had 
just called at a home where an only child lay 
dead, and his heart was very heavy. In the 
crib lay Ralph, burning with fever. He had 
grown worse during the doctor’s absence, and he 
wondered whether Laura knew it. He hated 
to tell her, for though he knew that she was 
willing to part with him, she must feel all the 
natural sorrow of a mother when she knew that 
he was going from her embrace. 


117 


118 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


So while the doctor acknowledged to himself 
that the child was in the grip of death, he 
merely said, 

“ It is a dark, dark world, Laura. There is 
no light anywhere.” 

“Yes, there is light somewhere, and little 
Ralph is going to it.” 

“You know it then?” 

“Yes I know he will leave us, and so will all 
the good and pure. They are being drawn 
upward. Whatever is from God returns to 
him. Every good and every perfect gift is 
from above and cometh down from the Father 
of lights. Ralph is going back to him.” 

“ I almost wish that I could believe as you 
do just at this time. Now while I must part 
with my boy, I would like to believe that both 
my children will wait for me where there will 
be no more parting.” 

“That is just what you may believe, just 
what a man in your trouble ought to believe. 
And why not, Henry? There is no reason 
why you should not. Look into the crib ; see 
in that fast ebbing life the end of your best 
earthly hope. What can you cling to if he 
who changes not is not your Father and 
Friend?” 

“ 0 Laura ! It is all so childish 1 ” 

“ No, it is your way of thinking that is child- 


A DEEPER SHADOW. 


119 


ish. It is not childish to believe with heart and 
mind and soul in the Being who made and 
upholds us. Unless you really mean to seek 
fcrr light you will not find it. But we will not 
dispute about anything now.” 

“ How much importance you do attach to 
promises in the Bible ! In a time like this I am 
glad they comfort you, while you at another time I 
could not forbear smiling at your credulity.” 

“ Don’t, don’t take such pains to fortify your- 
self against your honest convictions. A timelik» 
this is a trial time. It sifts our theories and 
examines our conduct. It shows us where we 
stand, where are foundations and where are 
quicksands. Trials are the candles of the Lord., 
and we must be careful how we turn away from 
the light they lend us.” 

“ Why do you say that trials are candles of 
the Lord ? I never heard it put quite like that.” 

“ There are times in our lives when we see 
clearly, we are honest with ourselves ; there are 
times when our power fails and we feel that there 
is, there must be a stronger power behind the 
human. All the voices of the soul cry out for 
help and they will not be hushed. Then heart 
and mind acquiesce in the government of God, 
and a promise is made to serve him. If the 
promise is forgotten, it will add so much more 
to the dark list of sins which another candle 


120 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


shall render discernible; and so promise is 
added to promise till the last trial comes. Then 
a sudden flash will reveal all the sins, and all 
the broken vows, and over against them will 
stand the words, ‘ Too late for repentance.’ ” 

“ Well, even if -you argue rightly, I shall not 
have broken vows to add to my condemnation.” 

“ Perhaps not, but I thought of you this 
morning when I opened my Bible at the second 
chapter of the second epistle of Peter.” 

“I do not remember how it reads, you will 
have to enlighten me.” 

“ It reads thus ;” said Laura, taking up the 
little Bible that lay close at hand. 

‘“But there were false prophets also among 
the people, even as there shall be false teachers 
among you, who privily shall bring in dam- 
nable heresies, even denying the Lord that 
bought them, and bring upon themselves swift 
destruction. And many shall follow their 
pernicious ways ; by reason of whom the way 
of truth shall be evil spoken of. And through 
covetousness shall they with feigned words 
make merchandise of you : whose judgment now 
of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation 
slumbereth not.’ ” 

“ A.ll that does not apply to me, my dear.” 

“ The application was such as to startle me. 
I wish I need not think that it applies. But 


A DEEPER SHADOW. 


121 


let us cease this discussion and watch over our 
sweet little son. Who knows what lessons may 
be taught us through this providence? Who 
knows what blessings are bound up with our afflic- 
tions ? Only eternity will show how much mercy 
there is in God’s seeming judgments, how much 
sweetness there was where we tasted only the 
bitter.” 

They sat in silence, as if by mutual consent, 
watching their darling. Only once Laura broke 
in upon the stillness to ask, “ Why does not 
Kezia come?” I was there soon afterward, and 
then for a long time no word was spoken. 

We heard one after another ask for the 
doctor, but the servant sent them away. Once 
the doctor roused himself from force of 
habit, to attend the call, then immediatelly settled 
back in his former position of watching and 
waiting. 

There are moments of waiting that seem like 
hours, there are moments that we would gladly 
convert into hours, and there are days that we 
could wish to make a lifetime. 


“ Who but would fain compress 
A life into a day, 

The last day spent with one 
Who ere the morning’s sun, 
Must leave us, and for aye? ’’ 


122 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


We had something of this feeling while 
watching dear little Ralph. But time does not 
tarry, though we talk about laggard moments, 
as if there really were such things. It is only 
our fancy. Each tick of the clock, each pulsa- 
tion of the heart is a measurement of time. Both 
hurry us toward that time that shall fix our 
happiness or our misery. But we thought not of 
misery as we looked down into the sweet little 
face of Ralph, it rather reminded us of the angels. 
Just before death sealed the dear blue eyes he 
smiled a faint, languid smile. It was none the 
less sweet for its faintness, and it was so touch- 
ing that there was not a dry eye in the room. 

“That is the last smile,” said Laura, and she 
did not mistake. Only a short time and the 
smile faded. The eyes that looked love and 
recognition became fixed and strong. Little 
Ralph had gone. 

“My birdie has flown to its native air,” said 
Laura. The doctor rose hastily, he seemed to 
reach the door with one stride, and he was out 
and away. 

Of all the friendships that Dr. Armstrong had 
formed, that with Joseph Blanchard seemed the 
most lasting, the most real. In his home lay a 
little daughter sick of the same disease. It 
was partly on her account that the doctor left 
Lome so abruptly, and partly because he could 


A DEEPER SHADOW. 


123 


no longer bear up under tbe death scene. He 
was not gone long; when he returned saying, 

“ I had to look in on little Susie. I knew 
that Blanchard was nearly wild with apprehen- 
sion.” 

Laura was fondly stroking the soft brown 
hair upon the head of her dead. She did not 
raise her eyes as she asked, “How did you find 
Susie.” 

“Better, I hope, but the improvement is very 
slight.” 

It is needless to describe what took place in 
the sorrow-stricken home. Ralph soon lay 
where Harry had lain, and voices were hushed 
and footsteps softened as if he lay in a sleep 
from which he could waken. And yet one 
heavy heart was there that would not believe 
that in the resurrection his child would waken 
into life ; that when the trump of God should 
sound, Ralph would come forth. But the 
mother’s heart believed it, and she cherished it 
as the sweetest thought of her soul. Praise 
God for the consolation of the gospel of Christ! 
May it soon be the portion of all for whom it is 
prepared. Then will the voice of wailing give 
place to calm and helpful tears, and the sob of 
anguish soften to a sigh. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE SILENT VIOLIN. 

It is said that “the unexpected always hap- 
pens.” I don’t think it always happens, but I 
think it is quite likely to happen. So little can 
we depend upon human calculation ! I wonder 
at many things that have transpired in my own 
life, and I wonder also whether it can be said 
with any degree of truth that I have done any 
good in the Master’s cause. Some have gone 
so far as to say, “Miss Fleetwood counteracts 
the evil influence of Dr. Armstrong.” I know 
this is not true. But when I remember the 
dead and the lost; all the dead I know are not 
lost, and all the lost are not dead. Let us pause 
to think of it. A soul so set to do evil that 
the good Spirit has left it, is lost already. Who 
have been thus passed by? Who? But I was 
thinking only of Wilfred when I began to 
write. No words of commendation can sound 
so sweetly in my ears as to shut out the agony 
of his dying words. And I might say that no 
smile of thanks, however welcome, can lead me 
to forget the unhappy end of Edward Blake. 

Yet in spite of these sad remembrances, I 

124 


THE SILENT VIOLIN. 


125 


have to thank God for the strength he has given 
me, and I have more than once been surprised 
at myself and at my efforts for his honor. Do 
not misunderstand me, do not think I have 
never failed, never yielded to weakness and 
timidity. I have been surprised at this too. 
Mine is the old story of humanity. Failure in 
doing my duty, failure in trying to do it, has 
repeatedly been mine to deplore. What I am 
about to relate will reflect no credit upon me as 
a Christian soldier. 

Ike Shepherd, you may remember, was the 
fiddler. But there came a time when the violin 
was laid in the case, by the trembling hands of 
Ike’s mother. Although she had looked upon 
it with disfavor because she believed it to be 
the means of raining her son, she took it up 
tenderly for the sake of him who had so often 
handled it with pride and satisfaction, and said 
sadly, “ poor boy, poor boy ! ” 

The night previous, Ike had been at a merry 
gathering, and he had drunk very freely of 
wine. After midnight he started home on a 
spirited horse. “Look out, Ike,” said one of his 
comrades, as he saw how unsteadily he mounted. 
“Never you fear for Ike,” he replied, as he rode 
away. But he had gone only a short distance 
when he was thrown from his saddle. Dr. 
Armstrong was returning from a visit to one 


126 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


of his patients, when he found Ike lying sense- 
less by the roadside. Ilis hand was clasping 
his precious violin, as if he had thought of it, 
even after his injury. No wonder the poor 
mother handled it gently when she went to put 
it out of sight! 

Ah! that mother, that sad, sad mother. It 
is of her I must write. Her grief was too 
much for Dr. Armstrong’s philosophy. He did 
not like her lamentations and reproaches, and 
hoping to escape them, he sent for me to come 
and condole with her. 

Widow Shepherd, for such she was, lived in a 
little home perched on the hillside, and seem- 
ingly clinging to it with a doubtful tenure. It 
is one of those little homes that I spoke of in 
the first chapter as within sight from the rear 
of my dwelling, where the inmates lived in a 
primitive manner. I was probably thinking of 
Widow Shepherd as much as any one else, when 
I wrote that; for if anyone retains the habits 
and traditions of her grandmother, Widow 
Shepherd does. Most of her acquaintances had 
married neighbor’s sons, but she had been met 
and fancied by a Yankee schoolmaster. Not 
that I mean anything to Mr. Shepherd’s dis- 
credit, for I am a Yankee myself. People 
wondered how Mrs. Shepherd clung to Dutch 
customs since her husband was naturally averse 


THE SILENT VIOLIN. 


127 


to them. In the ardor of the first months of their 
wedded life he had consented to buy a little 
farm close to his father-in-law’s and he built a 
little house on a side hill, and of course there 
was the inevitable cellar kitchen. But with 
the hurry and dispatch of the traditional 
Yankee he built the house a little shaky. I 
might write more about this period of Mrs. 
Shepherd’s life, for I know her little efforts to 
maintain Dutch thrift and Dutch cleanliness. 
After many repeated discussions she named her 
first and only son after her father’s name, Isaac 
Schoonmaker, which with great want of appre- 
ciation, his father shortened into Ike. Ike was 
too much like his father to cause his mother 
much satisfaction, but he was the idol of her 
heart and after the death of her husband, he was 
her only companion. Ho wonder her grief was 
wild in those terrible days when Ike’s life hung 
by a thread and there was no light beyond. 

I thought of this want of light from the 
moment I heard of the accident, nor did any- 
thing I saw on my way to the house of sorrow 
divert my mind from the thought. At other 
times I would notice how neatly the garden was 
kept, and I would pause for a moment to look at 
the old-fashioned flowers that the good woman 
loved. But that morning I saw nothing except 
the great, ugly well- sweep and the unpainted 


128 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


house beyond, and Dr. Armstrong’s head and 
shoulders just entering and filling up the door- 
way. 

“0 dear!” I sighed, “I wish I could have 
come when he was not here.” I had a vague 
presentiment of being called upon to do some- 
thing beyond my strength, and I was neglecting 
to fortify myself by prayer. I stepped inside 
the small entry, and while wiping my feet on 
the braided mat I heard the doctor’s voice. 

“ W ell, well, Miss Fleetwood will be here in a 
few minutes, and no doubt she will pray for you. 
She outdoes the parson himself.” 

I lingered another moment to gather courage, 
and then I met Mrs. Shepherd. I took her hand 
kindly and said, “ I am very sorry for you.” “ I 
believe you are,” she replied heartily. 

“Is your son dangerously injured?” I asked. 

“ Oh, yes, yes. I am so filled with fear that I 
am nearly crazed. You know,” she went on, 
lowering her voice that the doctor who was in 
the next room with Ike might not hear, “ my 
poor son took the doctor’s way of thinking, and 
say what I would I could not hinder him. How 
there he lies, and I don’t know that he will be 
rational enough to understand what he must do 
to be saved. I don’t know as he will try to un- 
derstand. Sometimes he seems to be conscious ; 
I wish you would pray with him the first mo- 


THE SILENT VIOLIN. 


129 


ment there is any chance. The doctor said you 
would.” 

“ How do I know that Ike will listen ? ” 

“God will hear and he may answer even 
though Ike wont listen at first. We must lose 
no opportunities to save his poor, poor soul.” 

I was silent and hoped that I would not be 
called upon to pray while the doctor was there. 
I comforted my conscience with the remem- 
brance that our Saviour said, “ Neither cast ye 
your pearls before swine.” Would it not be 
doing just that to pray before this scoffer? I 
settled that it would, and no sooner had this 
been done than the duty presented itself. 

“ Ike has roused and seems quite himself,” 
the doctor said. 

“ Now then is our time, Miss Fleetwood,” 
said the mother looking wistfully at me. 

“ Ask him if he wants me to pray,” I replied. 
I don’t think I wanted him to refuse, but if he 
had rejected the offer the strength would not 
have left my knees. Mrs. Shepherd returned 
and said that Ike was willing. I started to go 
into the sick room, but my feet almost refused to 
carry me. My face was pale and the doctor 
stared at me. 

“ Why, Kezia, what is the matter ? ” he asked. 

“ 1 The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’ ” 
I answered, “you must leave the room.” 

9 


130 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“ If I believed in prayer as yon claim to, I’d 
pray before the wliole world,” he answered, 
tauntingly, for when he found that it was only 
dread of him that affected me, he rather enjoyed 
it. 

“ Please go,” I whispered, and he left me with 
a sneer. I dropped upon my knees and tried to 
supplicate the throne of grace for an unsaved 
soul, but I had no liberty till I humbly ac- 
knowledged my sin in refusing to bear the cross 
for him who bore a heavier cross forme. After 
this, I did not lack words, and both Mrs. 
Shepherd and I wept like children. 

“You take it awful serious,” said the sick 
man. 

His mother bent over him, saying, “ How can 
I help being serious? Try, my poor boy, to 
realize where you are and reach out for mercy.” 

“Where’s the doctor ? I wish he had heard 
that prayer, I wonder what he would think of 
it.” 

This was terrible, he even wanted to know 
how the doctor would look upon a prayer offer- 
ed for himself at such a time, before he would 
consent to think seriously of it. But the doc- 
tor had heard enough to convince him that I 
felt condemned at trying to evade my duty and 
he said to me, “I respect your profession now. 
Better begin in failure and end in triumph, than 


THE SILENT VIOLIN. 


131 


to begin in triumph and end in failure. I shall 
have to tell Laura about this.” 

He did tell her, and she, understanding the 
situation better than he could, replied, “Poor 
Kezia ! It was not an easy thing to do.” 

That was not the last time I prayed with 
Ike Shepherd, and whenever the doctor was 
present he left the room unasked. I think not 
through disgust, but because he knew that I 
was freer without his presence. Ike began to 
manifest a slight interest, but be would not con- 
sent to see a minister. I was sorry, for I did 
not feel equal to leading a mind so darkened. I 
think that Dr. Armstrong proposed to send me 
there because it would be easier to meet me 
than a minister. 

Ike lingered only a week. What he felt or 
hoped I could not tell ; indeed, I did not know 
that there were any grounds for hope. But the 
poor mother hoped against hope and so stilled 
the pain in her heart. What Dr. Armstrong 
thought did not matter, for he smothered with- 
in his heart whatever had a tendency to make 
him better. No doubt he felt badly as he stood 
over the lifeless form of the once merry Ike 
Shepherd, but did he in any degree realize that 
he had himself perverted a soul by turning it 
from Bible truths, and thus taking away from 
it the hope of eternal life ? 


132 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


Widow Shepherd still clung to her little 
home, for she had nowhere else to go. She sent 
for a nephew and his wife to live with her, for 
her loneliness grew to be insupportable. When- 
ever she spoke of her son, she said, “ Ike was 
different at the last.” 

Poor woman ! I fear it is the old story of a 
drowning man grasping at a straw. O, what 
terrible revelations there will be in the next 
world ! I leave this thought with the reader 
only asking him if he is willing that his pious, 
anxious friends shall look in vain for him in 
heaven. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A SORE DENIAL. 

Clara Fardell gave excellent satisfaction as a 
teacher and she kept her school term after 
term. This bit of good fortune, together with 
the improved condition of the whole family did 
the girl a great deal of good. The old look of 
distrust went away entirely, and she began to 
hope that life would afford her an even chance 
after the cramping of those long years of dark- 
ness and poverty. This new care-free, contented 
look was set off by becoming apparel and it be- 
gan to be noticed that Clara Fardell was a very 
attractive girl. She had a fine' figure, of 
medium size, a frank, rather handsome face, 
a good stock of energy, and a proper ambition 
to rise socially. 

This was all very desirable, but there wasi 
something else about the girl which I was not 
so ready to call desirable. She was, peril aps, too 
thoughtful; she had too keen sensibilities, a ca- 
pacity for suffering which may or may not be 
considered a misfortune by its possessor. Some 
would not consider life worth living wjthout 
this capacity to sift all that belongs to it; to 

133 


134 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


read and know the whole of human nature, the 
depth of sorrow and the heights of joy ; while 
others never care to think, never want to spend 
a single hour alone, and are continually looking 
for something to divert their attention lest they 
should be thrown upon their own resources and 
forced to look upon life in earnest. 

But to return to Clara Fardell. She bade fair 
to drop the burden of undue thought and carry 
no greater weight of human woe than falls to 
the lot of most of us. But a new trial awaited 
her. Scarcely had she recovered from the de- 
pression caused by poverty and bereavement 
ere she was aware that Fred Wilmot cherished 
for her an ardent affection, and the knowledge 
of this fact showed her that she was by no 
means indifferent toward him. 

Now if you are like Dr. Armstrong, you will 
be ready to say, “ Well, what of it? What is 
wrong with Fred Wilmot?” But I hope that 
there are not many like the doctor, and so pre- 
sume that you will see at once that a girl like 
Clara Fardell would not yield to her affections 
when they crossed the line of right and duty. 

Clara took me into her confidence, not that 
she needed an adviser, for she was capable of 
deciding for herself, and she knew it. But I 
think she wanted a vent for her feelings, and 
she did not wish to burden her good mother. 


A SORE DENIAL. 


135 


Clara came to me on the edge of a September 
evening. I had made a bright wood fire in 
mother’s room, for I not only felt the chill of 
early autumn, but I felt also the need of some- 
thing cheerful, and mother’s room still seemed 
to retain some of her influence, though her 
presence had long since left it. 

Autumn evenings always cause me more or 
less depression of spirits, though I hardly know 
why. Perhaps one reason is the loss of the 
flowers and the decay of vegetation, yet that 
cannot be the sole cause. I love the glad sun- 
light, and dislike the shortening days at this 
season. Still, though the sun sets early, it will 
rise again and with its own peculiar glory. For 
what mornings are more beautiful than those in 
mild September, or bright, rich October? So I 
think my sadness at this season must come from 
a different source. It is a time to remember the 
poor, for many of their joys fly with the bright 
days of autumn. Children who clamber over 
the hills and hunt the roadsides plucking asters 
and golden-rod with all the joy and freedom of 
the rich are reminded by these light early frosts, 
of the bleak days to come, days when their 
poorly protected feet will swell and blotch with 
frost bites; days when the sun hides and the 
dull sky only changes to a more leaden hue. I 
think of these poor children and of their over- 


136 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


burdened mothers, and it is no wonder that I 
feel sad. I often wonder why some are unde- 
servedly rich and others as undeservedly poor, 
and I have come to the conclusion that it is to 
teach the rich generosity, and the poor patience. 
May God in his mercy forgive me if my actions 
have fallen short of my convictions. I was still 
deep in thought when Clara came, and I asked her 
if she knew of any one who specially needed help. 

“I do, though not in the way to which you 
allude,” she .said, bursting into tears. She soon 
recovered her self-possession, however, and gave 
me the information I sought. Being a teacher 
she saw the children of many families and could 
judge of their wants. She told me of little 
Johnuie Meade who had neither shoes nor 
jacket, and of Maggie Ford whose last winter’s 
wrap was an old, thin summer shawl. There 
were many others who were as needy, and at 
my request, Clara made a list of those families 
who were in most need of help, and then I 
asked her what I could do for her. 

“Nothing, perhaps,” she replied, “and yet I 
want to talk with you ” 

Little by little came the confession that she 
loved and was beloved. Now do not think that 
because I had already reached forty years, 
I had no sympathy for her. I did not tell her 
that it was nothing, and that she would forget 


A SOKE DENIAL. 


137 


it in a week. I knew better, and I was sorry 
for her. I was sure that Clara Fardell would 
love but once; what young Wilmot would do, I 
was not prepared to say. But in consideration 
of her peace I began to hope that he might be 
won over to the truth. I suggested this possi- 
bility, but Clara sadly shook her head. 

“You don’t know him,” she said. 

I was silent for a time, for I did not know 
what to say. But finally the remembrance of 
poor Laura’s suffering overcame all my caution 
and I said, “ W ell, then, in the event of a pro- 
posal from Fred I hope you will say no.” 

“No, a thousand times no,” she answered, 
while she struggled bravely with her tears. 

“Bless you, my dear girl,” I answered, and 
then said softly, “You know the promise of our 
Lord, that if we forsake anything for his 
name’s sake, we shall receive a hundred-fold 
and in the end everlasting life.” 

She bowed assent, but remained sad and dis- 
pirited and said but little more. I am afraid 
she was but little comforted when she left. 

I closed the door and sat down by the fire, 
but I did not muse any longer on poverty ; 
Clara’s trouble was uppermost in my mind. 
Oh, it is a world of strange and disheartening 
experiences, and how can men and women stem 
the tide of woes that must overtake them with- 


138 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


out having their hearts fixed on heaven. I felt 
that having this hope, Clara would come off 
conqueror over sorrow and temptation. Temp- 
tation, I say, because I doubt if there was a 
young man in our vicinity as fascinating and 
lovable as Fred Wilmot. He was handsome, 
educated, pleasing in his manners and address, 
and he had secured a position that was quite 
remunerative. Poor Clara! her heart had not 
been proof against all this, but her conscience 
did not approve, and her help was laid upon 
One that is mighty. 

About a week later I was spending the even- 
ing with Laura, when the doctor came in. He 
seemed in an ill-humor and his presence put a 
damper upon our cheerful conversation. 

“What has gone wrong, Henry? Is one of 
your patients worse or dying? ” Laura asked, 
for she was accustomed to see him unusually 
gloomy at such times. 

“No, I almost said I wish that was all. 
Fred is a fine fellow and this affair will hurt 
him. Women are so unreasonable.” 

“You must enlighten me if you wish me to 
understand you,” said Laura. 

“ Kezia won’t need any enlightenment,” he 
said, looking hard at me. 

“Well, I have not asked for it,” I said. 
“Tell Laura; see what she thinks of the affair.” 


A SORE DENIAL. 


139 


“It is just this. Fred Wilmot has offered 
himself to Clara Fardell and she has refused 
him. She acknowledges that she loves him, 
but declines his offer on the grounds of his 
skepticism, as she pleases to call it. What do 
you think of that?” 

Laura hesitated, but the doctor seemed to 
expect an answer, and I was not a little sur- 
prised to hear her say, “ Clara has acted the 
part of a brave, good, and wise girl. The Lord 
will reward her.” 

“Of course you think the same, and have 
already patted her shoulder and said, ‘You did 
just right, my dear.’” 

This to me, and I replied, “I did not say 
exactly that, but it amounted to the same thing. 
Clara is doing her duty, and few know how 
hard it is.” 

“ Humph ! ” he ejaculated. “ Clara thinks of 
herself only. I tell you this is going to hurt 
Fred. She ought to think ‘of him, and if she 
persists in her refusal she’ll send him to the 
devil. She can’t be much of a Christian if she 
can’t spread her mantle of charity wider than 
that.” 

‘“Be not unequally yoked together with 
unbelievers,’ the meaning is clear enough,” I 
said. “ And if Fred Wilmot thrqws himself 
away, the blame is his, and not Clara’s. She is 


140 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


a noble girl, and I appreciate her more than 
ever.” 

“ Silly women,” Dr. Armstrong muttered, as 
he lit a cigar, and left the room. 

“Really, Clara must be a rare Christian to 
take such a decided stand,” said Laura. 

“ It does not strike me that she could do dif- 
ferently,” I replied. 

“Others have not had the grace to see it so,” 
she answered, meekly. 

This looked like a confession and I kissed 
her blushing cheek while I said, “ Poor Laura, 
the dear Lord knows our weakness.” 

I could not ask her if she had known the 
doctor’s views before marriage, and I did not 
want to know. I wanted to hope that she had 
not chosen him before the Lord that he rejected. 

“ I have suffered, Kezia, only the ever watch- 
ful eye of God knows how much. Clara will 
suffer too, but not as I have. Tell her to be 
faithful, to hold firm to her sacred convictions 
of duty.” 

This, too, sounded like a confession. Had 
my poor Laura stifled her sacred convictions ? 
The blush that had mantled her cheek was 
gone, and she seemed paler than usual. A 
sudden fear struck me, and I asked earnestly, 
“ Are you not well, Laura ? ” 

A languid smile, so languid that it did little 


A SORE DENIAL. 


141 


toward reassuring me, stole into her face, as she 
answered,' “ Why, yes, Kezia, I don’t feel very 
badly, but I am so tired all the time.” 

u So tired all the time ! ” That seemed quite 
too much for me, and I urged her to attend to 
herself at once. This, then, was a new source 
of fear and trouble, and when I went home I 
gave over to my tears. I hurried to the dear 
old room where fond memories are so easily 
stirred, where the departed still seem to linger, 
and I wept because Laura was passing away 
from me too. It was weak but it was also 
natural. Who is above such fears? Even 
while we remember the goodness of God, and 
repeat to ourselves, “ O ye of little faith,” the 
human is still strong within us, and our only 
comfort is, that he who was both human and 
divine, knoweth our yearning hearts better than 
we know them ourselves, and his love and pity 
it even greater than our need. 


CHAPTEE XVI. 


A HARVEST HOME. 

John Peterson had steadily adhered to his 
hope in Christ, and the time was drawing nigh 
when the old man was to change his hope for a 
blessed fruition. 

“ I cannot last much longer, Eachel,” he said 
to his daughter one bright June morning. 
“The world outside is passing fair, I can see 
that ; but, my daughter, I am going to a fairer 
country than this, thanks to him whose parable 
of the laborers led me to hope even at the 
eleventh hour. And I thank you too, Eachel, 
because you were not unmindful of the best 
interests of your poor old father. Oh, the Lord 
is good, Eachel, he is good ! He remembered 
me even though I had forgotten him, even 
though I had gone over to Dr. Armstrong. I 
feel that I have been ‘ snatched as a brand from 
the burning.’ How I grudge all those years 
that I spent in the service of Satan. I cannot 
charge everything to Dr. Armstrong, for I ought 
to have been safely in the fold of Christ long 
before I knew him. Your mother was a good 
Christian, Eachel, and she was always trying to 
142 


A HARVEST HOME. 


143 


get me to give my heart to God. Those were 
her very words, ‘Give your heart to God, 
John, do give your heart to God.’ ” 

He paused, as if overcome by the recollection 
of his own stubbornness. 

Rachel turned comforter, saying, “Well, 
father, the past cannot be recalled, and regrets 
are unavailing. Spend your last days praising 
the long suffering and the tender mercy of God.” 

“Yes, Rachel, but I cannot forget what I 
might have done had I lived for him.” 

“ I do no£ ask you to forget it, but I do ask 
you to leave your sins with your Saviour.” 

This was but one of the many talks between 
Peterson and his daughter, and they were a 
source of comfort and strength to the two who 
were so soon to separate. 

Peterson had never changed his physician, 
though now he had no influence over his former 
victim. The doctor came and went as his at- 
tendance was required, but he did not prolong 
his stay more than was necessary. Once, how- 
ever, Mr. Peterson detained him, and the follow- 
ing conversation took place. 

“ Dr. Armstrong,” the sick man began, “ I 
have often listened to you, now I want you to 
listen to me for a few minutes.” 

“ All right,” said the doctor, resuming his 
chair, and folding his arms. His manner 


144 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


seemed like a challenge to the modest, timid old 
man, and at first he was at a loss how to pro- 
ceed. But, remembering that this opportunity 
might be his last, he gathered courage. 

“I know better than to try to convince you 
by using argument, for you are not a slow- 
tongue like myself. But I want to tell you 
something of what an old, forgiven sinner feels 
as he nears the grave. I was once awfully 
afraid to think of that place, but now it has no 
dread for me. I don’t mind now that my body 
must lie there and turn to dust, for I know that 
there is something within me that shall not 
cease to live, and blessed be God, I shall through 
the mercy of his Son, live with him. There’s 
no use to tell me as you used to, that it is all 
nonsense, for what I feel, I know. The glad- 
ness and peace that I feel in my soul is my 
witness, and I must believe. That is accord- 
ing to the Scriptures, for ‘ The Spirit itself beareth 
witness with our spirit, that we are the child- 
ren of God.’ Now, I know that you are ready 
to say that you don’t care for the Scriptures, 
but you better care, and that before it is too late. 
These two little words roll easily off of our 
tongues here, but they will torment many all 
through eternity.” 

He spoke with much earnestness, and his 
faded eyes rested upon Dr. Armstrong with 


A HARVEST HOME. 


145 


warmth and pity. The doctor heard him with 
cool politeness, and said very little in reply; 
but when he was on his way home he said, 
“Something has got hold of old John Peterson 
and waked him up, that’s clear.” 

Far different was the meeting between John 
Peterson and the aged James Williston. He 
came purposely to talk of the very things that 
Dr. Armstrong shunned or derided. Both men 
were aged, and both had spent the greater part 
of their lives without a saving knowledge of 
Christ, but now as they met, their theme was 
the unbounded love of God. They rejoiced that 
they had reached a city of refuge ; that they 
had closed in with offered mercy ere it was too 
late. The state of the crops did not seriously 
trouble them now. Peterson knew that his 
hour was fast approaching and Williston was 
tottering under the weight of his eighty years, 
and he looked forward to a speedy meeting 
with his friend and neighbor. What are 
earthly interests to those who were so soon to 
pass over to the other side? There was no 
sadness, no dread, on their countenances, but 
they beamed with hope and assurance as they 
talked of the near prospect of exchanging the 
“earthly house of this tabernacle,” for that 
“ building of God, an house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens.” 

10 


146 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


Truly it is good for Christians to meet and 
talk of God’s goodness and mercy. “ Comfort 
ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God.” 
How much cheer might be brought to disconso- 
late hearts did God’s children give more thought 
to one another. Often a word, a mere glance of 
recognition, will cause the sorrowing to look up. 
Do not fear that you will be too kind and help- 
ful. When our Master was upon earth and saw 
the needy and the sorrowing, he was “moved 
with compassion,” but that is not all; the chron- 
icle adds, “and he healed their sick.” So we 
may learn that sympathy alone, sweet as it is, 
will not suffice. Are we following the plain 
teaching of our Lord? Are the hungry fed, 
the naked clothed, and the sick visited? When 
Christ shall sit in judgment shall he say, 
“Inasmuch as ye did it , 11 or “Inasmuch as ye 
did it not?” *Lord, deliver us from those dread- 
ful words, “Depart from me, ye cursed.” 

But it was of John Peterson and James Wil- 
liston that I was writing. The next day the 
visitor knew that his cheering words had been 
spoken none too soon, for Bachel was an orphan. 
John Peterson was no more. lie had proved 
that it was better to be “ absent from the body, 
and to be present with the Lord.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE MISSIONARY’S SONS. 

My sister Helen and her husband had long 
deliberated as to what they should do with 
their boys. They wanted to have them ed- 
ucated in America, but they found it very 
difficult to part with them. At last parental 
tenderness succumbed to the ultimate good of 
their children, and Helen and the boys bade 
good-bye to Oliver; Helen for six months, and 
the boys for more than as many years. 

Their plans were all completed before they 
wrote to us. We soon experienced the blessed 
realization of meeting our long absent sister 
and of gazing for the first time on her tall sons. 
Clarence, the first born, was fourteen years 
old, and Albert was twelve; I cannot tell you 
how Laura and I hovered around the three. 
There was much rejoicing, and numberless ques- 
tions to be asked and answered. Still there was 
one drawback to our enjoyment. Helen saw 
what I had already seen, that Laura’s health 
was surely giving way. 

“ What ails Laura ?” Helen demanded of me 
the first moment we were alone. 


147 


148 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


11 1 do not know,” I answered, “ unless she is 
slowly dying of a broken heart.” 

“ I fear you are right,” Helen sighed. 

We tried to shut out this unpleasant thought 
and enjoy one another’s society. We three 
were together every day, and Clarence and 
Albert were free to ride with Dr. Armstrong. 
This was not allowed, however, till he had 
many injunctions laid upon him. 

At last he grew angry and said, “ I think by 
this time, I ought to understand your wishes in 
regard to this matter. Helen expressed herself 
plainly enough, then Laura almost drove me 
mad about it, and now you, Kezia, must follow 
on in the rear. Whatever you think about it, 
I think it is time to have done. I know that 
Oliver is as afraid of me as you are, and he shall 
know that I have some honor left. I am willing 
that he shall bring up his children as he sees fit.” 

After the doctor had once spoken like this 
we had no more fear, and the boys themselves 
declared that he never spoke of religion in 
their presence. The doctor could, if he liked, 
make himself very pleasant, and all that sum- 
mer Clarence and Albert watched for opportun- 
ities to ride with “ uncle.” 

This arrangement left us, three sisters, much 
to ourselves, and this old home w r as the scene of 
many conferences relative to the future. We 


THE MISSIONARY’S SONS. 149 

indulged in many reminiscences, both sad and 
sweet, and many blessed seasons of prayer did 
we enjoy together. There at the old family 
altar we seemed to draw nearer to the Divine 
Being; seemed to be filled with his presence. 
And these times of refreshing were greatly 
needed by all three to fit us for what lay ahead 
of us. There was the parting between Helen 
and her sons; there was the parting between us, 
her sisters, and there was the certainty of 
Laura’s failing health. The only offset to my 
coming sorrows was the prospect of the boys’ 
visits, for they were to make my house their home 
during their vacations. But we did not always 
look on the dark side of the picture. We were 
all trusting in God, and we smiled through our 
tears, for we knew that he would not forsake us, 
neither would his mercy fail us. How very 
precious are the words of promise we find in 
Holy W rit ! I sometimes think that only our 
hours of sadness reveal their worth. Yet is 
this right? We know that all light is brighter 
because of surrounding darkness, but ought not 
Christians always to be in an appreciative frame 
of mind ? Ought they not daily to live in and 
through God, remembering him amid their joys 
as the giver of them all, and not so often need- 
ing the bit and bridle to lead them back to him ? 

I said once in these pages that I had a 


150 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


special use for my money. Not that I have 
not scattered a portion of it in different ways as 
the Lord has shown me my duty ; but Helen’s 
boys had been long in my thoughts and I 
determined to stand for the expense of their 
education. They were to follow in the steps of 
their father, and the Lord’s servants should be 
well equipped to wage the warfare with sin and 
darkness. 

I feel sometimes that I envy the hardships and 
the self-denial of Helen’s life, or Alice’s peaceful 
grave by the sea. But I am not there, only 
here; here, and perhaps “at ease in my pos- 
session.” Lord, save me from the woe pro- 
nounced upon those in that state by saving me 
from that state ! If I am not yet awake to my 
duty, waken me speedily. 

Helen and Oliver were both surprised and 
pleased when I told them that I wished the 
privilege of educating their sons. And they 
were none the less grateful, because I told them 
that the offering was dedicated as much to the 
cause of missions as to the ties of kindred. 
My gift made it possible for the boys to take a 
more extended course than had been planned, 
and arrangements were made to give them the 
best education that our country affords. 

Clarence and Albert were placed in school be- 
fore their mother returned to her distant home. 


THE MISSIONARY’S SONS. 


151 


I will not dwell on tliat parting scene ; I would 
rather look forward to the time when they shall 
meet again. 

Helen returned to me after seeing the boys 
settled in school, and she looked worn and sad. 
“ Don’t mind my depressed state, Kezia,” she 
said, “ I shall soon feel better. A night of 
rest will do much for me.” 

And she did look much better in the morn- 
ing, though she hurried past the room that the 
boys ha,d so lately occupied, and began to talk 
cheerfully of other things. We were to spend 
the day with Laura , and as it was to be Helen’s 
last day there, we went early. 

“ I hope the doctor will be pleasant to-day, ” 
said Helen. “ By that I mean I hope he will 
not bring up any dispute. Of course I would 
bear anything if I thought 1 could convince 
him, but, Kezia, I am afraid that the doctor 
will never see as he ought to see. He has so 
long tried to pervert the truth, that I fear his 
eyes never will be opened.” 

As I was thinking over Helen’s words, I was 
reminded of what St. Paul wrote to the Corin- 
thians : “ If our gospel be hid, it is hid to them 
that are lost,” and I said, “ I am afraid you are 
right, Helen. He has looked away from the 
light so long, that should he seek it, he may 
find it taken from his sight. ” “ Poor Laura ! ” 


152 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


came from us both, and there we paused. 
There was nothing more to say, though both our 
hearts ached for our unhappy sister. 

The doctor was out making his morning calls 
when we reached Laura’s, and he did not return 
till noon. “ I declare, I miss the boys so, I 
don’t know what to do with myself,” were his 
first words. They were intended to be compli- 
mentary to the boys and pleasing to their 
mother, but they touched a tender spring, for 
they voiced her own thoughts, and she was soon 
wiping her eyes. 

“ I am sorry that I referred to them, Helen, 
but I thought that you were so devoted to one 
cause, that you were proof against all things of 
minor importance.” 

“ I trust that I am so devoted to my work 
that I can make sacrifices without murmuring, 
but I cannot stay these natural tears. If I 
were divested of all these human weaknesses, 
where would be the self-denial? No, doctor, 
we are not so changed but that we must con- 
stantly look for strength and grace; must con- 
stantly be praying for the abiding presence of 
the almighty Father.” 

This was said with so much meekness and 
simplicity that it seemed the doctor must ac- 
cept it all. But he immediately asked, “ Why, 
how is this ? I thought that believers received 


THE MISSIONARY’S SONS. 


153 


such stores of grace that they were ready for 
anything.” 

“Put it this way, doctor; there are stores of 
grace for us to draw from according to our 
needs. If you had a son you would hardly ex- 
pect him to ask you to give him all you ever 
intended for him. If he did ask it, you would 
say, ‘ Trust your father, my son. His heart of 
compassion will not change toward you, and he 
knows your needs better than you know them. 
Come to me with your wants.’ ” 

“ Do you Christians always get your prayers 
answered ? ” 

“ They are always heard, and that should be 
enough for us to know. God has the ability 
and he has the father-heart ; so if he does not 
answer us in the way we expect, it is for good 
and wise reasons. You would not give your son 
all he asks for, but while denying him you 
would console him for his disappointment, and 
teach him that your way was better than his. 
How, God’s grace means all this to us, and much 
more.” 

“ I thought you had the promise, ‘ ask what 
ye will.’ ” 

“We have, but it is understood as a promise 
to those who seek to know God’s will. To go 
back to the same reasoning, you would not give 
your little son your loaded pistol, no matter how 


154 KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 

much he cried for it, even though you had en- 
couraged him to come to you for everything. 
Y ou would expect him to be dependent upon 
your judgment still. Perhaps if God gave us 
some of the things we ask for, they might be as 
hurtful to us as the loaded pistol would be to a 
child, and you surely would reserve the right to 
deny him that ? ” 

“Yes, I would. I would want him to trust 
me, and I would not be pleased with anything 
less.” 

“Exactly so, and ‘without faith it is impos- 
sible to please God.’ I am glad that he does 
not give me everything I ask for; if I were 
sure of receiving it, how very careful I would 
have to be ! I would want to know even as God 
knows, before I dare ask for many things. I 
would feel shut in to ask for those things alone 
for which the Bible tells us to pray. But now, 
we know that he answereth as a wise father, 
equally good in giving or denying, and we carry 
all our troubles and desires to him, feeling sure 
that he will remove the one and grant the other 
according to his blessed will.” 

“Then what is the need of prayer, if, after all, 
God answers according to his own will, and not 
according to your requests.” 

There is much need ! Sometimes our prayers 
are answered so directly that we cannot mistake. 


THE MISSIONARY’S SONS. 


155 


Sometimes they are not answered as we expected, 
but infinitely more to our advantage. And aside 
from all this, prayer is the medium through which 
the soul draws near to its Maker and Bedeemer.” 

“ Well, Helen, I won’t say any more to you, 
I will be easy with you, since we have so little 
time together. And I will say that though I 
believe that you and Oliver are throwing away 
your lives I think that you act consistently. If 
I believed as you do, I would be more in earnest 
than most professing Christians.” 

He said nothing more on the subject during 
the day, but his last remark led me to think how 
very far short of our duty we fall. And how 
our duties would grow into privileges if we 
loved the Lord as we ought ! 

The doctor was out nearly all the afternoon, 
and Helen, Laura and I did not waste one pre- 
cious moment, for it was our last talk together. 
The next morning at daybreak Helen left for 
New York, and a few hours later I stood and 
watched the great ship sail down the bay, bear- 
ing Helen back to her Master’s work. All that 
day I fought the swelling tears, and when I 
reached home, I no longer tried to restrain them. 
Alice was sleeping in China, Helen had left me, 
perhaps never to meet again, and Laura was 
surely slipping away from me. No wonder I 
was sad. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 


THE TWO FRIENDS. 

I think I mentioned that Joseph Blanchard, 
the school master, nearly lost his little daughter. 
I remember now, it was when I was writing 
about Ralph’s sickness and death. 

When Joseph Blanchard married, his wife 
was not deceived in his views, neither did she 
do violence to her conscience. She was a gay, 
light-hearted creature who had never thought 
very seriously in all her life. Life looked fair 
and its pleasures desirable ; that she owed any- 
thing to the world, to humanity, or even to 
God, had never entered her mind. SowLen she 
received an offer from Blanchard she accepted 
it without any serious thought about the obliga- 
tions or the responsibilities such a step brings. 

“But, Emma,” one of her friends remon- 
strated, “ Mr. Blanchard is an unbeliever.” 

“ I can’t help that. He must take care of his 
own conscience. Beside, if the truth were told, 
I guess he has about as much religion as I 
have.” 

“I would be ashamed to make the acknowledg- 
ment if I were you, but admitting it to be the 
156 


THE TWO FRIENDS. 


157 


truth, you don’t know how long you will be the 
careless creature you are, and then what? You 
may carry a life-long sorrow.” 

“Joe will be no better nor any worse because 
he marries, so according to your way of think- 
ing I may be sorry whether I marry him or 
not. But I don’t think I shall begin right 
away. I don’t intend to be one of the long- 
faced kind. And I love Joseph Blanchard too 
well to throw him over for a mere whim.” 

“ Take that word back, Emma, you know it is 
no whim.” 

“Well, I will take it back. Joseph may be 
pious before I am, and at any rate I am not go- 
ing to borrow any trouble.” 

That was about all the decision she was 
capable of coming to. So they were married, 
Emma Schuyler and Joseph Blanchard. Blanch- 
ard was delighted with his “ treasure ” as he 
called his wife, for when he came home from 
school she met him with mirth and smiles and 
her handsome face beguiled him of half his 
weariness. Months passed quickly as they 
always do in such homes, and nearly a year had 
sped before Blanchard realized that he missed 
something in his wife’s conversation. In short 
it began to dawn upon him that her mind was 
uncultivated, and her character but half formed; 
that she was but little more than a child. The 


158 


KEZIA AISTD THE DOCTOR. 


courtship had been so short and the honey-moon 
so sweet that he had not missed the culture that 
he knew would he essential for one who was to 
be his companion. It was about this time that 
little Susie was born, and Mrs. Blanchard, with 
all her faults, was a devoted mother. The 
father was fond of the child, but while its cry 
only drew more constant and willing care from 
the tender mother, it drove the nervous and 
irritable father to seek companionship in his 
books. In this way they began to drift apart. 
Baby’s smile kept the mother hovering near, 
but baby’s dreaded cry sent the father from both. 
When his book failed to cheer him he would 
find his way to Dr. Armstrong’s office, and the 
two had something in common to talk about. 
Not unfrequently they ridiculed the Christian 
religion, and laughed at the credulity of its 
believers. 

Once the doctor remarked, “At any rate, 
Blanchard, you have not a wife with such a 
tender conscience. I was going to say I con- 
gratulate you, but come to think, I do not wish 
my wife other than she is.” 

Blanchard was silent, and only smiled at his 
answer. His next words were, “I tell you we 
have got a nice little girl over home.” 

“I dare say so, but you ought to see my boyl 
How he grows, and he is a regular boy. He 


THE TWO FRIENDS. 


159 


looks as if lie might make a big, stout man. I’d 
bring him in and let you see him if he wasn’t 
asleep. I’m quite proud of the little lad.” 

It was Harry that the doctor spoke of; lie was 
about the age of Susie Blanchard. And I re- 
member hearing the doctor say as he looked at 
Susie, “My Harry was just her age,” or “What 
a big boy he would have been, if he had lived. 
Poor Harry!” And then would follow the ever 
ready sigh. But I would think, not poor Harry, 
but “poor Dr. Armstrong.” 

As I have before mentioned, the doctor and 
Blanchard were firm friends, and these oft- 
repeated calls of the latter kept them so. And 
the more he talked with the clever, well-inform- 
ed doctor, the more he was convinced that he 
had married too hastily. This augured badly 
for the peace of the family, but while his wife 
missed the little attentions and compliments he 
had been wont to pay her, she had no mind to 
break her heart about them, for little Susie was 
fast becoming her idol. So when thejchild was 
stricken down with scarlet fever the poor 
mother’s grief was terrible to witness. 

Ah! those sad days of trial when the dearest 
and best blessings of our life seem ready to take 
wings and leave us. How they tell upon us ; 
how often they influence all our after years ! 
Souls are born at such times; the strong are 


160 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


made weak, and the weak are made strong. 
The careless are made thoughtful, and often 
the girlish mother suddenly ripens into the 
brave, strong woman as she stands over the 
crib of the sick- or dead darling. Such a change 
came to Mrs. Blanchard as she watched little 
Susie through that terrible illness. She was 
driven to God, the strong One, for refuge, and 
she went to him like a true and humble suppli- 
ant. She did not complain that she was afflict- 
ed, but she entreated him to remove the 
affliction, and like many another mother she 
promised to serve him if he would spare the 
life of her child. But unlike many such prom- 
ises, hers was kept, and when Dr. Armstrong 
pronounced Susie out of danger,, she reverently 
said, “Thank God.” 

The doctor and Mr. Blanchard exchanged 
glances. Mrs. Blanchard saw this, and she said 
with modest dignity, “I have learned my duty 
in my hour of trial, and I trust I shall never 
forget it.”. 

The look she wore well became her, and the 
doctor felt that this was the first time he had 
any real respect for Emma Blanchard. He had 
often laughed at her wit and admired her 
beauty, but that morning he saw that she had 
been in the crucible of affliction, and that the 
childish frivolity had vanished and the true 


THE TWO FRIENDS. 


161 


woman had come forth. Blanchard, with less 
discernment, thought she had been frightened 
into her confession, and he expected that her 
seriousness would last as long as Susie was sick 
and no longer. Alas! how many remember 
their vows no longer than they see the rod of 
affliction held over their heads. 

Susie had scarcely fairly recovered when a 
little brother came to her home. Mrs. Blan- 
chard’s love encircled the little stranger as well, 
but while she clasped both children to her heart 
in one embrace, she held them as lent from the 
Lord. 

Mrs. Blanchard had always been called a but- 
terfly, and the doctor and her husband were not 
the only ones who were watching to see what 
her new decision would do for her. She bore 
their scrutiny well, and showed that God was 
helping her to lead a new life. And though 
her husband said to himself every day, “It 
won’t last,” he was forced at length to believe 
that something had produced a radical change 
in her. He hardly knew whether he was glad 
or sorry, pleased or displeased. He was glad 
that she was so womanly, though he was loth 
to accredit the change to the right source, and 
he felt that if she was indeed religious, they 
would have less in common than before. Mrs. 
Blanchard was wise enough not to ask him 
11 


162 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


what he thought of it ; she had told him of her 
new hope ; further than this she would not go. 
She was more mindful of his comfort than ever 
before, and she gave him no opportunity to find 
fault with her professed change. 

The two friends were again in the doctor’s 
office when Blanchard said, “Whatever the 
change is in my wife, it bids fair to become a 
permanent one, and I must admit that I find no 
fault with her for it.” 

“I always said,” replied the doctor, “that it 
does not hurt a woman to be pious. If the 
Bible has it correctly they were last at the cross 
and first at the sepulchre. Well, well, they are 
good souls, most of them are. I often think we 
undervalue them.” 

Here the subject was dropped and both men 
puffed away at their cigars, as if there was no 
other enjoyment equal to it. If their thoughts 
were longer with their wives, they were not 
expressed. But it was more than probable that 
their wives were thinking about them, and per- 
haps praying for them. Poor, patient, tireless 
workers, shall they look for their just meed of 
praise in this world, or will they be content to 
receive it alone from him who shall say, “Well 
done, good and faithful servant,* * * enter thou 
into the joy of thy Lord ? ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE OLD HOME. 

For three whole years after Ralph’s death 
Dr. Armstrong’s home was childless, but at the 
end of that time, a little daughter came to glad- 
den it, but to gladden it only for a short time. 

The doctor smiled down on the small bit of 
humanity, and said “ She is a pretty little thing, 
and I believe I am just as well pleased that the 
child is a girl. Now, Laura, don’t begin to pray 
that she won’t live. Promise me that you 
won’t.” 

He looked sharply at her, and she saw that 
he would be worried till he had her promise. 
She almost smiled at his earnestness, for he 
claimed that prayer had no effect. She replied, 
“I shall try not to utter such a petition, but 
what my heart may feel under certain circum- 
stances, I cannot tell. If you would but 
become a man of prayer, then I need not ask 
to have her removed from evil influences.” 

He made no answer, and the subject was 
dropped never to be mentioned again. 

It was a question with Laura whether to call 
her baby Helen after the warm-hearted sister 

163 


164 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


who had recently left us, or Alice after the dear 
and early dead. She had not settled the matter 
before the doctor saw signs that the little one 
would not long need a name, - and he said 
bitterly, “ baby will do very well without a 
name for the little while she will be. here.” 

Laura sighed, for despite all her Christian 
fortitude, each time her little ones left her, they 
bore with them much that never returned to 
earth. The young mother not only parted with 
her children, she parted with her strength as 
well, and with her desires for life. Her treasures 
were being laid up in heaven, and she began to 
sigh more that she was left behind, than that 
they were called to go. 

The doctor echoed her sigh for he began to 
realize the truth to which he had closed his 
eyes for a long time. And although he did not 
tell her that she would not be long parted from 
her children, he felt that it was so. He left the 
room abruptly and did not soon return. 

It was a dull November morning, and he had 
many calls to make. The heavy rain-clouds 
hung low, and a chilling wind caused him to 
button his overcoat closely to his chin. He 
stalked on grimly, giving a surly word or a nod 
to those he met, instead of his usual pleasant 
“ good morning.” 

“ I see, the fates mean to have it out with 


THE OLD HOME. 


165 


me,” he soliliquized. “Well, I can stand what 
I must,” and he set his teeth and walked on. 

His first call was at Johnnie Meade’s home. 
Johnnie had a very sore throat, and his mother 
fearing diphtheria, had sent for Dr. Armstrong. 
The doctor seemed preoccupied, not to say care- 
less, and Mrs. Meade hardly knew what to 
think of him. “ Are you quite sure he is bet- 
ter?” she asked again. The doctor’s face was 
gathering a look of impatience, as she added, 
“ You know he is my all, my earthly all.” 

The doctor’s face cleared. “ Yes, quite sure,” 
he answered pleasantly. 

“ God be praised ! I was fearful last night 
that I might be called to give up my little son. 
As our friends narrow down, you know how 
apt we are to cling to them.” 

Yes, the doctor knew, and he knew that he 
must lose his all. But could it have been pos- 
sible for some one to remove his fears as he had 
removed Mrs. Meade’s, he would not have said 
as she did, “God be praised!” 

The doctor went on to see his other patients 
and Mrs. Meade turned a smiling face toward 
her boy. “I am so glad, Johnnie,” she said, 
“Now, I shall read to you all I can while you 
are sick, and you must get well as fast as you 
can, and then we will try to be happy and 
thankful.” 


166 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


Most people would have thought Mrs. Meade’s 
lot a hard one, and she often thought so herself. 
She had very little means, and she was obliged 
to work very hard and practice much self-denial. 
Often when unusually tired, she would be 
tempted to believe that God had “ forgotten to 
be gracious,” and the hot tears would start; 
but she drove them back calling herself rebel- 
lious and unbelieving. Thus she struggled 
bravely with poverty and loneliness, and was 
known as a good and pious woman. Dr. Arm- 
strong knew her circumstances better than any 
one else. He attended her husband, and he saw 
her faith and Christian resignation triumph over 
her natural affection. Although he could not 
or would not quite understand the reason, the 
fact did not escape his notice, and he found that 
it had not escaped his memory. That was why 
he answered her pleasantly, though his soul was 
vexed within him on account of his own trouble ; 
and all that morning he could not shake off the 
thought that there was a great difference in the 
way he and Mrs. Meade looked at their troubles. 
His mind was full of it when he returned home, 
and said, “Mrs. Meade has had a scare about 
Johnnie.” 

Laura knew and respected the poor woman, 
and she asked several questions that led to a 
long conversation. In the course of the talk, 


THE OLD HOME. 167 

the doctor asked, “I wonder if she feels her 
poverty as some folks do ? ” 

“Yes, indeed, she does. She has seen better 
days.” 

“Then she has a better way of hiding her 
feelings than any one I have ever seen.” 

“ She not only hides her feelings, but she 
hides herself under the covert of God’s provi- 
dence.” 

“ Much she gets for it!” the doctor replied in 
a taunting tone. 

“ Ask her what she gets for it,” answered 
Laura, with a little touch of warmth. “Yon 
will learn that she has blessings that far out- 
weigh those you expect her to mourn for.” 

“ Well, I think good warm clothes and good 
daily fare, are of as much importance as the 
dim imaginings she holds to.” 

“Don’t, Henry, if you have no better concep- 
tion of the Christian’s hope than that, do not 
speak of it, I implore.” 

“ I won’t I won’t vex you Laura, nor hurt your 
feelings. You are a dear good little wife and 
you always have been.” 

“ Why, what is the matter that you have 
taken to praising me ? ” and she gave him a 
side-long glance that was intended to make him 
smile. 

But he only said, “ Do I praise you so seldom 


168 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


that you fear that something is going to hap- 
pen ? ” 

“No, not so bad as that, but we wives as a 
rule, are not above a little commendation, and 
perhaps it is safe to say that most of us do not 
get spoiled by too much of it. No woman 
would expect her husband to be always singing 
her praises, but a little praise will hurt none of 
us.” 

“ And you have not had that little ? Upon 
my word, I believe it. Well, you shall have 
your share the rest of your life.” 

Laura looked him full in the face, and smiled 
one of her slow, half-smiles that meant, “ You 
will soon forget that. It is easy to promise.” 

He understood her perfectly, and replied, 
“ You shall see.” 

A day or two after that the doctor called at the 
home to see me, and questioned me about Laura. 

“Has she complained of her health?” he 
asked. 

“No, but I have for a long time feared that 
she is failing. What do you think of her? ” 

“ I think there is no time to lose. I must 
have been as blind as a bat, not to have seen this 
before. The fact is, I hate some things that I 
mpet in this life so much that I can’t bear to 
think them possible. Oh, I can’t part with 
Laura, I can’t!” 


THE OLD HOME. 


169 


He rose and paced the floor for some time, 
then he said, “ I have been thinking of bring- 
ing her np here, and leaving her for several 
weeks, perhaps. It will be a change. What 
do you think of it ? ” 

“ I think it will please Laura, and I shall be 
very glad to have her come. I wish it was 
summer or early autumn so that she could be in 
the air,” I said, for although my home was only 
a mile distant from Laura’s, hers was in the 
the thickest settled street of the village, and 
mine was in the country. 

“Yes, the air would do her good, but do^you 
know, I think Laura pines for something beside 
fresh air; something that you can give her, or 
help her get back. I mean the peace of mind 
she had in this old home. I feel that I have 
not made her happy, and I do not know how 
much I am to blame. To borrow the words of 
your Bible, I might ask, ‘ Can the Ethiopian 
change his skin, or the leopard his spots?’ I 
do not know what can be done about it.” 

“You cannot change yourself materially, per- 
haps, but you can ask to be changed. What 
you need, Dr. Armstrong, is the new life in 
Christ. Ask for it earnestly ; who can tell what 
depths there are in divine grace. If you wapt 
Laura to be happy, not only hold yourself will- 
ing to be convinced of the divine truth, but 


170 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


become an honest seeker after it, that the Spirit 
of truth ' may lead you into all truth,” I 
answered. 

This was too much for the doctor. He was 
not ready to have me carry the conversation 
quite so far. He made no reply, and he went 
on perfecting his plans to bring Laura to me. 

“ Y ou will see more of me perhaps, than you 
like if Laura comes here,” he said as he was 
leaving. 

“You will be quite welcome unless you talk 
what has never been talked here,” I replied. 

“ I have no mind to force my opinions upon 
you, Kezia,” he said, and bowing pleasantly he 
drove away. 

I was delighted at the near prospect of Laura’s 
visit, and with Patty’s help I speedily made my 
preparations. Patty, good old soul, would have 
rejoiced at having her favorite with us, had I 
not told her of the fears we were forced to enter- 
tain for mother and child. 

Just before sunset of the same day the doc- 
tor drove up with Laura and the baby. Patty 
and I had done wonders that day. The rooms 
were all swept and garnished, and Patty had 
found time to concoct many little delicacies that 
Laura liked. I had made a bright fire in the 
spare chamber and one in mother’s room, and 
by the one the doctor sat reading the evening 


THE OLD HOME. 


171 


paper, and by tlie other Laura and I were seated; 
she leaning back in an easy chair, feeling a sense 
of relief that was visible in her looks and man- 
ner. I held baby whose light weight was 
scarcely felt. If I had harbored any hope of 
the life of the child it was now quite extin- 
guished. I saw that it would slip away from us, 
and that very soon. 

“ Oh, it seems so good to come back home for 
a long stay. I can almost be glad of anything 
that brings me here, Kezia, for I am tired, so 
tired.” 

“ Well, rest now. You will have nothing else 
to do, for I will take care of baby,” I said. 

“What do you think of her, Kezia? ” 

“ I think, dear sister, that she will soon be 
with the other children. 

“We think so too. Well, it is my comfort 
that God orders all these events, and that he 
doeth all things well. I am resigned to his 
will, but, Kezia, she’s a dear, sweet little thing.” 

I could well believe it, and as I thought how 
much Laura had already given up, and how 
much she was still willing to give up, I saw 
that her will was fast merging into the divine 
will. I was glad that this was so, and yet there 
was an under current of sadness that made itself 
felt. I knew why this was so; everything was 
fast tending toward a separation. Laura was 


172 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


growing more heavenly minded; earthly hopes 
and affections were losing their hold upon her. 
Even her earthly life was soon to become a 
thing of the past. 

“You look very grave, Kezia,” she said. 
This reminded me that I must keep as cheerful 
as I could, and seem cheerful even when I was 
not. So I smiled and said, “ I must put on a 
brighter face or you will think you have but a 
scanty welcome.” 

“Eo fear of that entered my mind. I am at 
home already, and I hope the doctor will let me 
stay here all winter. Just think, Kezia, a 
whole winter together in the old home! I am 
happy in the anticipation, and I am sure the 
reality will not disappoint me.” 

After a few moments she spoke again, less 
hopefully, “ If anything serious happens, I 
would rather be here. You, see Kezia, how 
mucb I depend upon you.” 

“Depend upon me to the full extent of my 
ability to help you,” I answered, and then we 
dismissed the subject and tried to look hope- 
fully into the future. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A RUNAWAY. 

There were two of Dr. Armstrong’s converts 
of whom I have said but little — Will Watson 
and Harry Felton. It seems natural to mention 
the two together, for they drifted together when 
they were young men, through their common 
disbelief in their Creator. Beside, they mar- 
ried into the same family. Will was several 
years older than Harry, but he did not feel able 
to marry any sooner than his friend, owing to 
the help he gave his mother. So the marriages 
took place at the same time, and they rented a 
double house and went to housekeeping at the 
same time. 

The young ladies whom they married, like 
Emma Schuyler, afterward Mrs. Blanchard, had 
not very troublesome consciences, and they 
entered the bonds of matrimony without a 
thought of the principles of the young men, 
they were to marry. Sad and strange it is that 
so many seem to think of this life only. 

I doubt if one could have found a merrier 
house than the one occupied by these four 
young people. Little gatherings were frequent, 

173 


174 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


and in the absence of these, there was no lack 
of merriment. Harry Felton was the leading 
spirit, but the others were not far behind him in 
the pursuit of fun and pleasure. 

About the time that Laura came to me, an 
event occurred that changed these light-hearted 
young people into thoughtful and sober ones. 
From Sunday till Sunday came round again, 
they had been planning a long ride. More 
than once they ridiculed the views of those who 
were too strict to ride for pleasure on the Sab- 
bath. The subject was brought to their notice 
in this way. Felton had tried to engage a team 
of Deacon Vosburgh, a sound, thorough- going 
old Christian. But the good deacon promptly 
refused, on the ground that since both man and 
beast were to rest on the Sabbath, he could not 
let his team for pleasure seeking on that day. 

“All right,” Harry answered. “I can get one 
at the livery stable, only I fancied your rig.” 

“ Any other day you should have it, or you 
could have it on the Lord’s day for a merciful 
purpose.” 

The conversation was repeated at home as a 
good joke, Felton drawing his face down and 
repeating the words, “the Lord’s day” and 
“ merciful purpose” with mock gravity to imi- 
tate what he termed the deacon’s sanctimonious- 
ness. Then followed much sinful conversation 


A RUNAWAY. 


175 


in the same strain, and many irreverent words 
were said which passed for wit. But scoffing is 
not the safest thing a sinner can do, and it is 
more than possible that some of these people 
remembered their words before that Sabbath 
ended. 

Felton prided himself upon his capability as 
a driver and he occupied the first seat with 
Watson beside him. He was hastily turning 
a sharp corner when the forward wheel of the 
wagon came off, and Watson was thrown into 
the ditch. The ladies screamed and frightened 
the horses so that Harry could no longer hold 
them. The ladies were thrown out, but Harry 
hung to the reins as long as he dared, and the 
horses went on, dragging the wrecked wagon 
after them. As soon as possible the others 
reached the spot where Watson lay. His leg 
was broken, but he had escaped further injury. 
After finding him no worse, the rest of the 
party began to count their own bruises. Felton 
was horrified to see a deep cut in his wife’s 
smooth cheek ; Mrs. W atson’s face was pale, and 
she pressed her hand tightly against her side. 
“Well,” said Felton, “you are all injured but 
me, I guess I have escaped with nothing worse 
than a good shaking up.” 

It was no easy matter to get Watson home, 

. and once there, Dr. Armstrong was summoned. 


176 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


It being Sunday he was not in his office, but up 
at my place. This caused some delay and it 
was late before he returned. Laura and I were 
very anxious to hear from the sufferers, but the 
doctor was not at first disposed to be very com- 
municative. 

“It is bad business, bad business. They are 
all hurt more or less, and there are damages to 
pay beside.” 

Afterward he said in reply to a question from 
Laura, “Will’s leg is broken, his wife has two 
broken ribs, Mrs. Felton has a gash on her 
cheek that will leave a deep scar, and if Felton 
himself don’t feel by to-morrow that he has 
been pounded from head to foot, then I am no 
prophet.” 

“ Where had they been ? ” I asked. 

“ Out on a ride. Old Vosburgh wouldn’t let 
them have his team on Sunday, and now I sup- 
pose he’ll croak and say ‘ I told you so ! ’ ” 

And then, as if fearing more questions, he 
took his newspaper and went to his room. 

Next morning the doctor went early to see 
his new patients, and found as he had feared, 
that Harry Felton was worse. 

“ I am not sure, Doctor, that I am not -worse 
off than any of the rest,” the poor man said. 

The doctor was very, very sober when he 
spoke of the case at dinner time, and Laura 
asked him what he feared. 


A RUNAWAY. 


177 


“ I’m afraid of internal injuries. He must 
have been dragged over a stone or a stump, 
though he doesn’t remember it, it all was so 
sudden.” 

Meanwhile, there were sad words spoken 
where so lately the sounds of mirth had been. 
Mrs. Felton was the only one of the four who 
was able to be on her feet. Mrs. Watson was 
likely to get along though her condition was 
far from enviable, and her husband complained 
more of his loss of time than of his pain. But 
despite Dr. Armstrong’s efforts to hide the 
truth, Harry Felton was aware of his danger. 
Harry, the funloving, funmaking Harry, was 
oppressed with fear and sadness. 

“ What would I not be willing to part with 
to see the wonted light and joy come back into 
his eyes,” said his wife to her sister. 

The gay friends that had come so willingly 
to the house of feasting now kept aloof from the 
house of mourning, or at best made a short 
call. It was Deacon Yosburgh’s wife who 
came to them as an angel of mercy. They 
hung on her words, and gladly received her 
ministrations. The deacon came too, but he 
did not say, “I told you so.” He said “I am 
sorry for you,” in a way that went to their 
hearts. I could not be of much service to them, 
for my time was so fully occupied, yet I did go 
12 


178 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


a few times, and I shall not soon forget the 
scene I saw there. Harry’s great dark eyes 
pleaded so hard for life that they must have 
haunted Dr. Armstrong long after. Poor 
Harry, he must have suffered greatly, but he 
suffered in silence. Ho one was able to help 
him to a more comfortable state of mind. Some 
effort was made to turn him to the pitying Lord, 
but he found no hope. And soon all was over. 
The crape hung at the door, the gentle winds 
swayed it, and the passers-by said, “ Harry 
Felton is dead.” 

And Harry Felton was dead, doubly dead, so 
all good and thoughtful people feared. Months 
after, Mr. Watson went back to his business; 
Mrs. Watson resumed her household duties, but 
the poor young widow went back to her father’s 
house. There, in quiet and seclusion, she 
learned what she should have acknowledged 
long before, that she owed herself to the Lord 
who had purchased her with his blood. 

I have made a short story of these young 
people and their afflictions. But I have no 
more to add to this part of their history. I 
grow sick and faint yet as T think of that young 
man dropping suddenly and all unready into 
the awful unseen. 

For all their terrible warning, Mr. and Mrs. 
W atson seemed impenitent, and they fell back 


A RUNAWAY. 


179 


into their old life, that life that paid so little 
heed to the commands of their Maker. What 
is more obdurate than the human heart unless 
it yields itself to the softening influence of divine 
grace ? 

Dr. Armstrong, too, remained unchanged, but 
I think he felt relieved when Harry Felton’s 
great, sorrowful eyes could no longer follow 
him*. What will he do if he is finally shut up 
with the souls he has led to forsake their only 
hope of heaven? Is there anything more terri- 
ble to contemplate ? I think nothing can be 
worse. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


CRUSHED AND REBELLIOUS. 

The winter passed away without any change, 
only that Laura and the child grew weaker. 
When March came, the change was rapid and 
unmistakable. 

I cannot come to that now, I must go back to 
that winter, that long, quiet winter that we 
spent together. Then the death angel was so 
far distant that we did not hear the rustle of his 
wings as he approached, when with the baby 
sleeping in the crib between us, we sat evening 
after evening, happy as we could well be in this 
world of trouble, where my poor sister had 
received her full share. She was the same 
Laura still, only her trials had caused her to 
make several removes heavenward. 

I never tried to describe her looks, and I 
don’t know that I can. Let me try to picture 
her as she looked on some of those long winter 
evenings, when she sat with her head leaning 
on mother’s old arm chair. Her face, always 
fair, was very pale, and her rich brown hair 
clustered upon her white forehead. Her full 
blue eyes wore a languid look, though sometimes 
180 


CRUSHED AND REBELLIOUS. 


181 


they shone with an unusual luster, and her 
cheek took on the hectic flush. But I loved 
better to look at her as I first described her, 
without this mockery of health and hope. 
Then her face looked almost angelic, so quiet, 
was it, so freed from any ambition or passion. 
All the earthy seemed to be burned away, and 
I found myself thinking that the resurrection 
body would not appear so very different from 
this. There was nothing gloomy in this thought 
to me; my faith always rose to meet it. I felt 
that she had already attained a height that 
needed but one remove more. That, of course, 
I hoped was not very near, so precious was she 
to me. Only one thing disturbed her peace; the 
doctor’s unnatural, unchristian views. I say, 
unnatural, because with all his knowledge, his 
surroundings, and the proffered light from the 
gospel, it appeared that he was doing violence 
to his honest convictions. 

I have often wondered whether my poor 
sister’s last thoughts were not embittered by her 
husband’s unbelief, but I think not. I think she 
was enabled to cast this, the greatest and last of 
all her cares, down at the feet of the Saviour 
who promised his children peace. 

Often during that winter, when the doctor 
came in and joined us in our cheerful sitting- 
room, we still talked of our hope in Christ, of 


182 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


heaven, and of our dear ones whom we hoped 
to meet there. This was not done from any 
real agreement, but there was a tacit understand- 
ing, an unexpressed hope in our minds that he 
might be won by this much sooner than if we 
hushed as quick as he entered, or spoke only of 
those things which he knew did not deeply 
interest us. Sometimes he seemed to listen 
quite intently, especially when Laura talked, 
but he never joined the conversation even to 
ridicule it, though I knew that nothing but 
consideration for Laura’s feelings kept him from 
it. He afterward told me that he would have 
feigned interest if it would have comforted her, 
but he thought that would be doing her a greater 
wrong than to leave her undeceived. I wonder 
if those words that Wilfred spoke to Alice kept 
him from practicing this deception. “You 
would look in vain throughout eternity to find 
Wilfred among the saved.” Who knows but 
these words came into his mind, and led him to 
see that what he meant for kindness would be 
cruelty. 

It can’t be that such men forget all they wish 
to forget. They must come to places where all 
unwelcome some word of warning, some home- 
thrust, returns to them. Alas! for happiness 
built upon such foundations as this world can 
offer us. Alas, alas! for those who seek to 


CRUSHED AND REBELLIOUS. 


183 


build for themselves a name by speaking lightly 
of the holy name of God. Perhaps we do well 
to be angry with such people, and yet, I think 
God would rather have us sorry for them than 
angry at them. 

I did feel sorry for Dr. Armstrong when 
his heavy affliction came upon him ; it came 
very suddenly. The baby died only three days 
before Laura. It seemed that she lingered only 
to know that her little one was safe in Jesus’ 
arms. I was reminded of Alice and mother, 
only Laura followed her child sooner than 
mother followed Alice. 

I will not dwell upon the scenes connected 
with those deaths. I cannot. I experience a 
queer sensation when I remember how empty 
and lonely this great house was after her death. 
When father died Laura was with me, and now 
when she left me, all was gone ; all but Helen, 
and she was far away. I sent immediately for 
Clarence and Albert, and after that I could do 
but little, think but little, as my head was so 
weary and my heart so heavy. I would steal 
softly into the room where my dead lay, and go 
out again almost immediately, for I felt that I 
was neglecting some duty, I had taken so much 
care of baby, and had been so constantly needed 
between the two, that I could not realize that 
I had now no such care. 


184 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


But if I went to my dead sister only to come 
directly away, the doctor did not. Hour after 
hour he sat by her, his eyes riveted on her face. 
I tried to remonstrate with him. I urged him 
to take rest, but he would answer, “ Leave me 
here, Kezia.” 

Once when I was speaking to him, he said, “It 
is so different with you; you expect to see Laura 
again, I do not. After this is taken from me,” 
he said, rising and looking upon the calm face, 
“ I have nothing more to look forward to. 
Laura will be to me only a memory. My chil 
dren,'too, all will pass into a memory, nothing 
more.” 

“O, Dr. Armstrong, how you do need the 
faith and hope you will not lay hold of! Let 
this trial lead you to Christ, the Saviour of sin- 
ners.” 

I meant to speak what was right and best, 
but I am sorry to say it had not the effect I had 
hoped for. He replied, “I am not likely to be 
driven to religious belief. Beside, I have lost 
all, I have nothing more to lose.” 

“Yes, you have,” I answered, “and I tell you 
here in the presence of your dead, -you have a 
soul to lose.” 

“ Kezia, don’t,” he said and his voice sounded 
like a petulant child’s. I saw that he was vexed 
with me, and I said no more. I did not speak 


CRUSHED AND REBELLIOUS. 


185 


to him on that subject till long after, and perhaps 
this was wrong. Who can tell when words 
are better spoken or withheld ; when we are sow- 
ing seed on good ground, or when we cast our 
pearls before swine. Oh, that the Holy Spirit 
would direct us when and how to speak ! Let 
us seek his guidance more earnestly when we 
speak in the Master’s cause. 

There were now four graves in the village 
cemetery and in these Dr. Armstrong felt he 
had buried his all. Poor foolish man! He had 
tried to resist the Almighty, and even after he 
had been stripped of his treasures, he would not 
yield to his Almightiness. He was broken in 
spirit; all his earthly hopes were crushed, but 
his heart was not softened. He was crushed, 
but not mellowed. He grew aged fast after his 
losses, and hard as he remained, he excited pity. 
“How gray Dr. Armstrong grows!” “How 
the doctor fails in looks!” or some like remark 
was often heard. 

After Laura died, the doctor and I had very 
little to say to each other. When she was sick 
he told me that he would not soon forget my 
kindness, but almost as soon as she was buried 
he began to harbor the ill feeling that he used 
to entertain toward me. I never felt that I 
suffered any loss through his absence, for he 
was no help to me. I still employed him as 


186 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


my physician, yet we had nothing in common 
but our sorrow, and we grew to speak less 
and less of that, so that before Laura bad been 
a year dead, we ceased to mention her name. 

Helen’s boys were a great comfort to me. 
They were the only relatives I had this side 
of the great ocean, and I had the ever-present 
sense that they would not long remain with me. 
It is the privilege of the lonely Christian to 
come very near to Christ, the elder Brother of 
us all. This I did ; I always hope to do so till 
time shall be changed to eternity, and hope to 
glad fruition. But I missed Laura. Poor gen- 
tle sister, hers was a life of love and service, 
hardly appreciated till she was called awa} r . 

When will the heart of man learn to cherish 
its best gifts? When will people show the 
affection that lies latent in their bosoms, for 
which some dear one pines, and which they 
afterward lavish on the dead? The heart that 
throbbed with anguish at our unkindness is still 
and pulseless. The eyes that grew misty over 
some hasty word of ours, no longer look out upon 
us. They neither brighten at proofs of our 
love, nor sadden at our indifference. All is past, 
and so far as regards this present life, our loved 
ones are indeed, only a memory. Shall that 
memory be sad or sweet? It must be as our 
words and deeds have made it. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


DECISION. 

The long, bright summer days were with us 
again, and Clarence and Albert were spending 
their vacation under the old roof. I might 
rather say that they were spending it on the 
farm, for they were usually in the hayfield or 
tramping up and down the creek for fish. 
They were particularly fond of fishing, and 
often spent whole days in quest of “luck,” as 
they called it. This was all very good for the 
boys, and they grew ruddy and strong, and soon 
regained any vitality that had been lost in the 
year’s study. 

But before the summer was over I had occa- 
sion to regret an unpleasant occurrence. Other 
lads than my nephews frequented the creek, 
and one day trouble ensued. Clarence, though 
a kind, warm-hearted youth, had a quick, 
ungovernable temper. He got into a dispute 
with a boy of the same age, and when the other 
made use of insulting language, Clarence knocked 
him down, and he would have dealt another 
blow if Albert had not interfered. For Albert 
was more considerate, and he would not have 

187 


188 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


struck a blow without first thinking of conse- 
quences ; what folks would say about the mis- 
sionary’s son, how sad Aunt Kezia would feel 
and how ashamed he would be to tell his parents ; 
all these reasons would have passed through 
his mind and he would have smothered his 
anger. But poor Clarence! The blow came 
first, and the sorrow and shame had to follow. 

The boy that Clarence struck lived in the 
village, and I regret to say that the quarrel 
made quite a stir. Dr. Armstrong warmly de- 
fended the conduct of his nephew, and said he 
would not give a snap of his finger for a boy 
who had no spirit. Altogether, he was likely 
to lead Clarence to think himself a hero. It 
was my duty to counteract this influence, and I 
told Clarence that if he meant to' devote his 
life to winning souls for Christ, he could not too 
soon begin to practice patience. I succeeded in 
leading him to think as I did, for my words 
recalled the teaching of his parents. I advised 
him to make friends with the boy whom he had 
struck, and he did so, both making acknowl- 
edgments. 

You may know from this affair that I had 
some little cause to be anxious over Clarence. 
I knew that divine grace would conquer this 
fault as well as all other faults of my nephews, 
and I tried faithfully to do my whole duty by 


DECISION. 


189 


them. I did not forget that prayer is a mighty 
lever to move the hearts of our friends, and I 
prayed that the kingdom of peace might be 
established in their young hearts, that they 
might be qualified for their Master’s work. I 
did not doubt that they already felt the draw- 
ings of the Spirit, but I was anxious that they 
should heartily accept the offers of salvation 
and enroll their names with the servants of 
Christ. Each letter from their parents was full 
of strong, persuasive words, and these letters 
could not fail to touch a tender chord in the 
hearts of the absent boys. 

I began to be a little afraid of Dr. Arm- 
strong’s influence over my nephews, since 
neither Helen nor Laura was there to keep him 
in check, but to his credit, I will say that I be- 
lieve he never broke his promise with them. 
That he often showed a want of reverence for 
sacred things, I cannot doubt, but he never 
assailed the belief it had been their parent’s 
first duty to inculcate. The Doctor was very 
fond of the boys, he made them many valuable 
presents, and he seemed as sad as I was, when 
they went back to school. I, for one, would not 
have been sorry to part with them if I could 
have foreseen what the Lord was going to do for 
them that year. Ho doubt the faith of those 
who had dedicated them to the missionary 


190 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


work kept them expectant of such good news ; 
but my faith was- often-times weak, and I 
thought, what if they neglect the way of sal- 
vation that has always been so clearly explain- 
ed to them I School life, too, often fosters the 
spirit of neglect for these things. But I was 
agreeably disappointed. There was a revival 
in progress in the town, and my dear boys were 
among those who took a stand for Christ. I 
rejoiced greatly at this, and in my gladness, I 
told the doctor, having no one else to whom I 
could communicate the good news. I might 
have known, if I had paused to think, that he 
would not consider it good news. 

“Humph!” he said in a tone of disgust, then 
added, “I suppose you are rejoicing over it, but 
for my part, I shall be disappointed to see them 
become dull, uninteresting fellows.” 

It was useless to enter into any discussion 
with him, so I merely said in reply, “We are 
told that the angels in heaven rejoice when a 
soul is saved. So I am sure I ought, to be glad 
that our dear young relatives are safe.” 

He had stopped only a moment to speak 
about some business, which was already adjusted, 
and as if fearing to hear more, he took up the 
reins, and spoke to the horse, 

“Come.” 

I stood watching him till he was out of sight, 


DECISION. 


191 


and thinking what a strange man he was, and 
what a pity it was that so many natural endow- 
ments should be perverted to an evil use. If 
his large brain and eloquent tongue and agree- 
able manners had been consecrated to God and 
his service, his life would have told for good in 
our community. But he was as he was, head- 
strong, rebellious, graceless, impious Dr. Arm- 
strong. I turned to my room, sick and faint 
over the evil that he had wrought, and taking 
the letter that had given me so much satisfac- 
tion, I read it again, shedding tears of joy. 
Here was comfort over against sorrow ; hopes 
raised against hopes crushed. Who would not 
gladly turn from that dark picture to a brighter 
one; from the life that had been a curse, to the 
lives that had been given to bless the world? 
As may be supposed, I watched eagerly for let- 
ters from my nephews, for I was anxious to 
know how they were getting on. I did not for- 
get that there is often a darkening of these new- 
found joys; that there are sloughs of despond, 
and lions in the way ; that the cross is often 
heavy, and the flesh weak. Neither did I for- 
get to pray to the Lord who knew all their 
temptations to keep them from falling. Some 
letters came that wanted the glad ring of the 
first ones, and as I said, I was prepared for these. 
I answered them almost immediately, only tak- 


192 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


ing time for tlie necessary consideration. One 
letter from Clarence was especially doleful in its 
self-reproaches. His besetting sin had partially 
triumphed over his watchfulness, and he had 
been provoked to anger. And he had been re- 
minded of his fault by these taunting words: 
“Well, you are a pretty Christian! You are a 
wonderful follower of the meek and lowly 
Jesus! Instead of imitating him who, ‘when 
he was reviled, reviled not again,’ you have 
been the first to revile.” 

I do not know what language Clarence used, 
but it seemed that it was such as to throw dis- 
credit upon his profession, and the circumstance 
seemed to afford satisfaction to those who had 
predicted that the converts would not “hold 
out.” 

I am sorry' to know that the above phrase is 
not used by the enemies alone, of religion. The 
careless and faithless in our ranks too often 
make the same prophecy. Alas, that it is so 
much easier to predict that the newly converted 
will not “ prove faithful,” than to speak words of 
encouragement to them! Sad, is it not, that 
we all need the oft repeated injunction: “Feed 
my lambs ! ” 

Of course I was very anxious over these dear 
boys; too anxious to neglect my duty toward 
them. I often think of the disciples in the gar- 


DECISION. 


193 


den of Gethsemane, how they fell asleep though 
repeatedly asked by their Lord to watch with 
him in his agony. The chronicle adds, “for 
their eyes were heavy.” Again and again has 
this thought comforted me when the weariness 
of the flesh triumphed over my spiritual desires 
and aspirations — Jesus knows my eyes are 
heavy. 

I knew that Dr. Armstrong would say that 
there was no need of self-reproach for these fail- 
ings, even though he should admit the truth of 
our religion. But this same Dr. Armstrong had 
been indefatigable in his efforts to overthrow 
religion, he must even have stood in the way of 
the working of the Holy Spirit since it coerces 
none, while it draws many. Awful thought! 
Of such people might be said what Christ said 
to the lawyers: “Ye entered not in yourselves, 
and them that were entering in ye hindered.” 

13 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


YIELDING TO CIRCUMSTANCES. 

How often it happens that sorrow and trial 
prove the worth of our friends. The false 
friends fly as soon as trouble comes to us, and 
the true draw the nearer. So I found it with 
Rachel Peterson and Clara Fardell, as well as 
Mrs. Blanchard, during the sickness and death 
of Laura and the little one. My friends are 
not, and never have been very numerous. I 
trust every one whom I know feels friendly to- 
ward me, but I make few close friends. I was 
drawn toward Rachel on account of her sterling 
worth, toward Clara because she threw herself 
and her troubles into my confidence, and I first 
began to be interested in Mrs. Blanchard 
because her life seemed shaping so much like 
poor Laura’s. As I said, none of these failed 
me in my sore affliction, and I proved the truth 
of the old adage that “ a friend in need is a friend 
indeed.” 

And here I may as well confess that my re- 
gard for Rachel received a sudden shock. Patty 
heard a rumor that Rachel was about to marry 
Mr. Blake. I indignantly denied the report, 
194 


YIELDING TO CIRCUMSTANCES. 


195 


but on thinking it over I began to see that it 
was quite probable. Rachel was lonely; so was 
Blake. He had some property ; she had but 
little, and that was nearly covered with mort- 
gages. She was plain-looking and no longer 
young. All this passed through my mind and 
I said, “Who knows but it is true?” Still I 
could not help repeating the question, “How 
can she marry him ?” I could not believe that 
she had learned to love Mr. Blake, for a nature 
like hers could hardly feel any special regard 
for a man like Blake. What was it then, that 
would lead her to make a life companion of him? 
Was she afraid of the name of “old maid,” or 
was she afraid to battle with life alone, look- 
ing only to God for help in times of need? 
Thoughts like these made Rachel Peterson fall 
in my estimation. Perhaps I who have never 
known poverty ought not to judge her, but I 
had given her credit for so much bravery and 
self-reliance and trust, that I confess I was dis- 
appointed. Blake had been a hindrance to the 
growth of piety in his first wife, and a second 
wife need look for nothing else. I felt that 
Rachel should consider this, and seek to be 
helped forward, not drawn backward. 

I never hinted at the affair when I saw 
Rachel. I was determined not to help her tell 
it. I could see that she was uneasy and I was 


196 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


bad enough to be willing that she should be. 
One afternoon she came, dver to talk about it. 

“I suppose you have heard what people are 
reporting about my marrying Mr. Blake ? ” she 
began. 

“Yes I have heard it.” 

“What do you think of it?” 

“ I am surprised, to say the least.” 

“Surprised, are j r ou? Well, what else?” 

“I am surprised, sorry, and disappointed.” 

“I was afraid you would be. But I really 
think he will be different now; he says he will.” 

I shook my head doubtfully. “See it first. 
Of course he will promise .” 

“You are a little hard on him, Miss Fleet- 
wood.” 

“That may be so. I tell you what I think. 
Since you ask my opinion you cannot blame me 
for speaking freely.” 

Rachel was still somewhat displeased, though 
she tried to act naturally. “Shall I be able to 
count you as firm a friend as ever, if I marry 
Mr. Blake? ” she asked, presently. 

“Yes, as firm a friend, but not such a hearty 
admirer. I thought from the way you managed 
your affairs with Dr. Armstrong that you would 
be mistress of almost any situation, but I find 
you yielding where you should be most firm. 
How is it? ” 


YIELDING TO CIRCUMSTANCES. 


197 


“Just this. I am tired of being poor, tired 
of having no folks, and tired of hearing noth- 
ing night and day but the tick, tick of the 
clock. You may despise me for my weakness 
if you will, but just remember, if you please, 
that you with all you have to enjoy can hardly 
make allowance for one situated as I am. I 
have borne the yoke of poverty from my early 
youth and I am getting very tired of its contin- 
. ual strain.” 

I pondered long over her words. Here, then, 
was the clue to so many unhappy marriages. 
The burden upon my poor sister women is so 
heavy that they must rush into a marriage 
without the sanction of the judgment, or the 
leading of love. Poor Rachel ! I thought that 
day as she talked, that before one year the tick- 
ing of the clock would be a welcome sound to 
her in exchange for Blake’s vapid conversa- 
tion. 

In speaking of the matter to Mrs. Blanchard 
not long after I said, “I cannot become recon- 
ciled to the match.” 

“Nor I,” she replied, “I am sure that she will 
not be as happy with him as she is in her own 
little home. But she has a great dread of pov- 
erty and old age, and she thinks that the latter 
will be all that she can bear. I think she 
shows a lack of faith there. I was talking with 


198 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


Mr. Blanchard last night about Rachel. He 
knows my views about such matches, but he 
don’t agree with me. 

“‘Sensible woman,’ he said, ‘I don’t believe 
we need “strain at a gnat and swallow a camel.” 
Because Blake is not pious would you have her 
lose a good home? He’s not a bad fellow, and 
if she can stand his talk, she’ll get along very 
well. She can’t expect much of a catch, you 
know.’ 

“ I was quite provoked at his words, but I let 
the subject drop there. I know Mr. Blanchard 
does not appreciate Rachel as much as he ought; 
for she has been a good friend to us in sickness. 
She deserves a better fate than this. Still, I do 
not blame her for the step, and her’s will not be* 
the first mistake of the kind.” 

Poor woman! This was the first allusion she 
had made to her own trouble, if indeed this was 
such an allusion. Indeed, there was little need 
to speak of it now; words could do no good. 
She was reaping the bitter fruits of her careless- 
ness and indiscretion. I can call it nothing less, 
since no young lady in her sane mind should 
marry an avowed 'unbeliever, even though she 
herself had not yet a saving knowledge of the 
truth he rejected. 

Mrs. Blanchard was, at this time the mother 
of three children. The youngest, an infant lay 


YIELDING TO CIRCUMSTANCES. 


199 


in her arms as she talked. A gentler, more dig- 
nified mother I have seldom seen. Gentleness 
is very desirable, but a gentle dignity is more 
desirable still. Gentleness that leads a mother 
to suffer wrong doing rather than reprove it, is 
detrimental to the peace of a family, but when 
gentleness is coupled with that dignity that 
does not fear to assert itself at the proper place 
and time, then there seems to be little wanting 
in a mother. Mrs. Blanchard developed her 
womanly character while passing through her 
deep and sore trial, and day by day she had 
grown in Christian grace, even though there 
were so many drawbacks to her spiritual 
advancement. As I looked at her I wondered 
if Rachel would live so near a scoffer, and bear 
herself as nobly as Mrs. Blanchard. 

I have not much to say at this time about 
Clara Fardell. She was holding her even way, 
sometimes rather cast down, it is true, but 
always supported by a sense of right. Years 
had passed since the beginning of her heavy 
trial, but she had been quieter and more con- 
tented lately, since Fred Wilmot had ceased to 
importune her to be his wife. Lately he had 
met another who had taken her place in his 
heart. When Clara heard of his marriage, she 
grew a shade paler, and her face, always too 
pensive, took on a look of sadness. But this 


200 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOB. 


soon passed away, and she said, “ I am glad 
that Fred is married, and I have no doubt that 
I will soon be glad for my own sake. If his 
wife is a Christian, God help her; and if she is 
not one, then, indeed, God help her, for I fear 
that few women would do as Mrs. Blanchard has 
done.” 

I thought a long time about Clara’s last 
words, and I too, feared that few women under 
the same circumstances would become what 
Mrs. Blanchard had; feared that even solemn 
promises made under affliction would be forgot- 
ten, to be remembered only at the judgment 
day. For our poor human natures need help, 
not hindrances, if we would walk in the way of 
the Lord. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


OTHER CHANGES. 

It often became my duty to visit the homes 
of poverty and sickness, and one day I was 
called to the home of little Maggie Ford, the 
child before mentioned as being one of the 
poorly clad pupils of Clara’s school. Ever 
since Clara had called my attention to her I had 
watched her enough to know that she was 
properly clothed. And although I knew but 
little about the other members of the family, it 
took me but a little while to understand things. 
The cause of their poverty was obvious. The 
father worked irregularly and the little he 
earned he spent for drink. The rh other had 
been able by her own exertions to do much 
toward supporting the family, for Maggie was 
the only child. But the mother was now in the 
last stages of consumption, brought on by expos- 
ure and over- work, and little Maggie was too 
young to take upon herself the nursing of her 
mother and the care of the house. 

Dr. Armstrong was called, and he found them 
in a very bad condition, and he at once sent for 
me. He often sent for me in sickness, and 

201 


202 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOK. 


sometimes I could not tell why. It was said 
that I was a good nurse, and that may have 
been the reason he so often called on me. 
Beside, I had the reputation of haying an open 
purse, and I think he wanted me to see the des- 
titution of many of his patients. But whatever 
his reasons were for sending for me, I plainly 
saw that he wanted an argument. I had left 
him entirely alone for a long time, and he was 
spoiling for a dispute. So he began, 

“ It seems to me that this is rather bad man- 
agement for such a wonderful Providence as you 
claim is over the affairs of men. Now, if I had 
ordered things here, I would soon have that 
good-for-nothing sot breathing his last, so rid- 
ding the world of his presence, and I would have 
that poor, worthy woman enjoying the health 
he wastes in dissipation. Instead of that, you 
see the good suffer, and the bad escape suffer- 
ing. I have often told you that everything is 
in a sorry mess. How do you explain it?” 

“I shall not attempt to explain it,” I an- 
swered, “ I have often told you that many things 
cannot be explained. The just are to live by 
faith, and if one could always see the reason 
why things are as they are, what faith would be 
required ? It is not becoming for you, doctor, 
who have labored to clip the wings of faith, that 
worketh by love, to find fault that the world has 


OTHER CHANGES. 


203 


not grown better. I have often told you that if you 
had used your influence for good instead of. evil, 
it would be a very different community. This 
reminds me of what I have heard, that you and 
Blanchard have taken a fresh start to oppose 
the truth. I am no prophet, but I feel that 
some terrible visitation of Providence will over- 
take you, if you do not desist.” 

“ 0 Kezia ! you remind me of one of those 
nurses who try to frighten children into being 
quiet by telling them about bugaboos. Now, 
really did you expect to scare me ? ” 

“ No, doctor, I did not. I hardly know why 
I spoke to you as I did, only I felt impelled to 
speak. I had about made up my mind never to 
speak to you again of your spiritual welfare.” 

“ That would be sisterly, too,” he said, ironi- 
cally. 

“ Well, you will misunderstand me. The last 
time I spoke to you on the subject was imme- 
diately after Laura’s death, and I meant to speak 
kindly, but you took it unkindly. Now when I 
remember what you were to her, and I tell you 
that I tremble for your safety, you treat my 
words with contempt. You sought this inter- 
view to shake my confidence in God’s providence, 
but you have not done it. It is true, I tell you 
in all candor that I wonder at God’s patience 
with you, but I remember two things : one is that 


204 KEZIA AND THE DOCTOK. 

the best of us need this constant forbearance, 
and the other is that though his wrath slumber- 
eth, eternity is long.” 

“ That, too, is a nice point,” he answered. 

“ Whose is the blame ? God’s laws are as just 
as they are unalterable, and the choice of hap- 
piness or misery remains with yourself. Nay, 
more, you are entreated, you are bidden to ac- 
cept eternal life and warned to flee from the 
wrath to come. You would be the first to con- 
demn a man for murder, larceny, or arson, and 
you would say in defence of your decision, ‘ The 
laws are good, and he who breaks them must 
pay* the penalty.’ W ould you not ? ” 

Little more was said between us after that. 
We met at the Ford cottage; both ministered to 
the sick ; both saw the poor woman leave this 
world where she had known so much sorrow; 
both spoke words of sympathy and encourage- 
ment to Maggie while we spared not reproofs to 
her father. But though we agreed in these par- 
ticulars we felt that we were better apart, and it 
was long before we met again to hold any con- 
versation. 

Meantime, the doctor and Joseph Blanchard 
were on the alert to do evil to the cause of 
religion. So far from deterring the doctor from 
his purpose, my words stimulated him as he 
afterward confessed. They tried to draw the 


OTHER CHANGES. 


205 


young and unwary into their own miserable un- 
belief, and I am thankful to say, that they were 
not as successful as they hoped. Through the 
influence of Mrs. Blanchard a celebrated doctor 
of divinity came to the village, and his discourse 
did much to confirm the people in the truths of 
the Bible, and expose the sophistries of those 
who tried to overthrow them. 

Mr. Blanchard was very angry when he 
learned that the able minister had been recom- 
mended by his own wife. She, nothing daunted 
by his anger, assured him, 

“ It was the best thing I ever did. I see no 
reason why women should always stand in “the 
background, if their perceptions are keener than 
men’s, as they are said to be. Why should I 
not work for the good of the village, as you 
work for its hurt ? The Lord is on our side, 
and we are sure to win. I am not afraid of 
being called forward and officious, you cannot 
frighten me. I don’t believe in shedding idle 
tears over the condition of things ; I believe in 
deeds. I mean to work for the kingdom of 
Christ, so that at last I may hear those blessed 
words: ‘ She hath done what she could.”’ 

And saying this Mrs. Blanchard went on un- 
dressing the baby as if nothing had happened, 
while Mr. Blanchard went to find Dr. Arm- 
strong, banging the door after him as he went. 


CHAPTER XXY. 


A DISAPPOINTED WOMAN. 

Rachel Peterson had been Mrs. Blake fully 
six months before I found it convenient to make 
her a long, informal visit. Perhaps, however, 
my inclination had as much to do in the matter 
as my convenience. I cannot trust myself in 
this matter, so I mention both reasons. Well, 
there I was at last. Rachel had just come in 
from her old home which still stood empty. 
She entered the gate just before I did, and she 
carried a large bunch of late autumn flowers in 
her hand. That was all right and pleasant, but 
her eyes were red and swollen, and that did not 
strike me pleasantly. I took no notice of her 
want of composure, but I admired the flowers 
she had in her hand. 

“Yes, they are pretty,” she said. “I shall 
pot some of the chrysanthemums. I think they 
will stand the transplanting as well as I do, at 
least. If they don’t, I pity them.” 

She shut her lips tightly together, and I knew 
at once that she had spoken intentionally. 

“ Why, Rachel !” was all I said. 

“ I wish I had known myself better,” she said, 

206 


A DISAPPOINTED WOMAN. 


207 


presently. “ I did not know that I had so little 
patience, or putting it another way, I did not 
know that talking bored me so; I was better 
fitted to live alone.” 

She thought she had taken the blame of her 
discontent entirely upon herself, but I knew her 
better than to think the fault wholly hers. I 
knew that if her disposition was anything like 
mine, and I thought it was, she would be driven 
almost to madness sometimes. 

Before anything more could be said, Blake 
himself came in. I could see that Bachel was 
vexed, although she tried to control herself. I 
knew she was thinking, “Now here is an end to 
our talk.” 

Mr. Blake had come in from the village, and 
he had a basket of groceries on his arm. I 
expected to hear about his hobby; prices and 
bargains, nor was I deceived. 

“Groceries have gone up,” he said, setting his 
basket down, “ but I got mine at the old price. 
I got some real nice tea here for thirty cents ; 
the grocer wanted thirty-five for it, but you 
can’t cheat me. I sold my butter well, got 
twenty- two cents for it. I knew butter would 
go up, so I held on to all we had.” 

I have changed my mind right here; I meant 
to give Blake’s conversation as nearly as I could 
remember it, but my better judgment tells me 


208 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


that it would do no good, and it certainly would 
not add any dignity to my story. So I will 
leave the reader to imagine how interesting it 
was, and turn at once to what Rachel said when 
we were alone again. 

“ I suppose you are thanking your stars that 
you are not in my place, and well you may. I 
know that this is an un- wifely confession, but 
you know me so well that you would understand 
my feelings even if I attempted to conceal 
them.” 

I had said all I could to persuade her not to 
marry, and now that she was married I wanted 
to help her m.ake the best of her situacion. 
Blake had complained that very afternoon that 
she was unsocial. “ Rachel wont talk,” he said, 
and I thought that if she would drop some of 
her reserve and talk to him and with him, she 
mig.ht lead him up a little higher and help him 
to a few ideas. She would at least break in 
upon his garrulity, and that would be something 
gained. 

So I said, “ Rachel, it is well for you that I 
am your friend. It would have a very bad 
sound if I were to tell what you have said about 
your husband.” 

At the mention of the last word, she shrugged 
her shoulders but I did not pay any attention to 
her impatience, and I continued, “ I think you 


A DISAPPOINTED WOMAN. 


209 


can better tlie situation if you set about it with 
the energy you use in other matters.” 

“Don’t lecture me,” she interrupted. 

“ That is just what I mean to do,” I replied. 
“ Mr. Blake has a social nature. He likes to 
talk and be talked to. Can’t you get him out 
of the old ruts that try your patience, by turn- 
ing his thoughts in another direction ? ” 

“ Oh dear, no! I have tried to, but he hates a 
book or anything like it. The boys were said 
to be smart, but if they were they must have 
taken after their mother. How she stood her 
life with him I can’t tell. She must have been 
more than easy-going, for he actually led her in 
some things. Catch me being led by such a 
person ! ” 

I was ashamed to hear her speak so bluntly, 
and I told her so. Her reply was quick and 
short. 

“ Well, what is a body to do? Sometimes I 
sit and listen till I get so nervous I feel that I 
shall scream in spite of myself.” 

I laughed at this, and she laughed too, but 
she soon straightened her face, and said, “You 
can well afford to laugh. I feel more like cry- 
ing. Indeed, I do cry often.” 

“You had better pray for patience than cry 
with vexation,” I ventured to say. 

“ I have prayed and prayed, but I feel that I 


210 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


grow wicked every day. I must not yield to 
sinful feelings, but bow am I to help it ? ” 

“ Don’t give up prayer ; fortify yourself hourly 
by it if need be. Learn to overlook many 
things, wink at them, can’t you ? ” 

“No, I can’t. It is not in me to fool myself 
so. Then his trying ways are not all I complain 
of. He has already given up church going, and 
he is always looking out to make or save a 
penny, as if he meant to live forever. And I’ve 
got to hear about it all the while. A continual 
dropping will wear away a stone, and I wish I 
was Eachel Peterson again. There! I’ve said 
it, and I mean it too. If you know of any other 
woman who wants to marry for the sake of a 
better home, and you can’t dissuade her, just 
send her to me.” 

I could not say much to Rachel, she was so 
set in her way, but when I left, I said, “ Now, 
do try to make the best of your situation. 
Think of the speech of people ; think what they 
will say about your religion. No matter how 
much you suffer in silence, don’t let that suffer 
reproach. Beside, you can be more contented 
if you will. You must remember that none of 
us are so perfect that forbearance is not needed 
toward us.” 

I said good-by and started homeward. I 
must confess I breathed a bit freer as I neared 


A DISAPPOINTED WOMAN. 


211 


my own dwelling. Patty had a nice supper 
waiting, and I sat down, meaning to do justice 
to it, but I was too sad to eat. I could not 
keep Rachel and her trouble out of my mind. 
She had disappointed me twice. First that she 
would marry Mr. Blake, and next that she 
yielded so easily to discouragement. But I did 
not wish to judge her harshly. I plainly saw 
that her nature was easily rasped, and nothing 
but the grace of God can keep such persons 
from becoming annoyed with folks like Blake. 
I also saw more clearly than before, that mar- 
riage was justifiable only when some good de- 
gree of regard was entertained beforehand by 
both husband and wife, that both love and 
respect were necessary to a happy union. 

Poor Rachel, she had neither the one nor the 
other, and she had to learn by the dearest way, 
the way of experience, that she had taken the 
wrong step. 


CHAPTEE XXVI. 


A HUNGRY HOUSE. 

“Whoa! ’’said Dr. Armstrong one morning as 
I sat by the open window. I looked up and 
saw that he had merely stopped the horse, and 
that he did mean to get out of the carriage. I 
went to the door to see what he wanted. 

“ Good morning, Kezia. You better go down 
to Widow Meade’s right away and take some- 
thing for them to eat. Let Patty go along to 
carry the basket, but don’t lose any time.” 

That was all he said, but that was enough. 
I soon filled a basket with food, and feeling 
equal to carrying it myself, I took the shortest 
way across the fields. 

I soon reached the house. The door was 
standing open, and my step was not heard upon 
the green-sward. Mrs. Meade sat in her one 
easy chair and Johnnie was awkwardly trying 
to do some housework. He had evidently 
been saying something to which his mother 
replied, 

“ Ho, my son, God never forgets. You know 
the promise is, ‘He shall strengthen thine 
heart.’ ” 


212 


A HUNGRY HOUSE. 


213 


Here the conversation ended, for they were 
aware of my approach. As I entered I saw 
them exchange glances. 

“Good morning,” I said, “Dr. Armstrong 
sent me.” 

“God bless him, though he does not think he 
needs his blessing I” Mrs. Meade said. “He 
looked in here an hour ago, for he knew I was 
bad with rheumatism, and I had to tell him 
how we were off, for we have nothing to eat. 
Johnnie and I were very hungry last night, and 
we waited hoping some one would bring us a 
little gift, for we had no money, and I did not 
like to beg. But night set in, and no one came, 
so we knelt down and prayed not so much for 
food as that our trust in God might remain 
unshaken. But I did feel very sorry for Johnnie, 
and I said, “my poor boy, I have no supper for 
you, so I can give you nothing but a kiss.’ 
He saw that I felt very sad, and he said, ‘All 
right, mother, I think I can sleep soundly on 
that.’ And so he did, but the morning brought 
back the hunger, and you see I had no choice 
but to tell the doctor about it.” 

While she talked I emptied the basket, and 
with Johnnie’s help I set the table. Then leav- 
ing them alone, I went into the bed rooms and 
made the beds, and did whatever else was to be 
done. When I returned, they had finished their 


214 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


meal, and then I charged her never to be in such 
straits again without letting me know. I gave 
her some money and talked with her a long time. 
She seemed deeply religious, and I found myself 
wondering why she was reduced to such a con- 
dition. The same answer came to me that has 
so often come before, “ that you may not lack 
opportunity to do good.” Then I remembered 
the words of our Lord: “Ye have the poor 
with you always, and whensoever ye will ye 
may do them good.” 

Perhaps I have given this thought before; 
for I have been long writing this story. Some- 
times I am surprised at the different ways God’s 
word and service affect me. When I am in a 
suitable frame of mind all the promises seem so 
real and so precious that I wonder we should 
ever know any anxious care; then, again, an 
uneasiness comes over me that is akin to doubt 
and distrust. J ust so in the services of the sanc- 
tuary; it is often a Bethel, but not always. 
Sometimes, through a strange perversity we 
are led away from worship by fits of abstraction, 
and when we return to ourselves we have lost 
points in a sermon, or missed the comfort we 
should have gained from the prayer. Perhaps 
this fault is peculiarly my own, yet it is true 
that the human heart fastens itself upon earthly 
things. As St. Paul has put it, “ The carnal 


A HUNGRY HOUSE. 


215 


mind is enmity against God; for it is not sub- 
ject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.” 
So even after the -heart and mind have been 
influenced by divine grace, great watchfulness 
is necessary. Satan does not quietly stand 
aside, leaving Christians to enjoy peace and all 
the fruits of the Spirit. If he dare tempt the 
Master himself be assured he will not suffer his 
followers to go unmolested. 

But I have gotten away from my story. 
Dr. Armstrong sent the grocer’s boy down 
to Widow Meade’s literally loaded down with 
provisions. Tears filled her eyes, and she said; 

“What a pity that the doctor is so skeptical. 
As often as I see him I think that he lacks 
only one thing. Yet that is the one thing need- 
ful.” 

“Yes,” I answered; “it surely is of more 
importance than everything else combined. I 
wish he could be made to see his duty.” 

“Sometimes I fancy that he is convinced, but 
that having taken his stand against the truth, 
he fears the scoffs of his friends and companions,” 
said Mrs. Meade. 

“That is quite possible. Indeed, I think you 
are right, and if this is so, it shows the terrible 
power of evil over us. Bather than confess our- 
selves wrong, we persistently disown our con- 
victions.” 


216 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOK. 


“Then men like Dr. Armstrong practice 
deception in two ways; they deny God, and 
also deny their convictions. Where, then, is 
the hope of freedom ? ” 

I was thinking about the old saying, decep- 
tion is a tangled web, and I made no reply. 
But Mrs. Meade continued : 

“ I think the doctor is fast breaking down. 
He is giving way in everything but that terri- 
ble will of his. Excuse me, Miss Fleetwood, 
if I have spoken too freely about your brother- 
in-law. It is not idle talk ; I pity him, and I 
pray for him far more than I talk about him.” 

I assured her that I did not think she had 
said anything wrong, and I soon left her. But 
I had food for thought all day. It was as she 
said; lacking faith in God, Dr. Armstrong 
lacked everything. Another thing was true, 
he was failing, growing weaker in everything 
except will. Poor Dr. Armstrong, poor blinded 
man! So wise and strong in his own conceit, 
so weak and wicked in the eyes of his final 
Judge ! 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


MORE TRIALS. 

One afternoon I had been to attend the fun- 
eral of the aged James Williston, and on my 
way home, I stopped to call on Mrs. Blanchard. 

“So the poor suffering old man has gone 
where there is no more suffering,” she said 
when I told her where I had been. 

Mr. Blanchard was present, and he looked up 
with an expression that meant, “ What non- 
sense,” but nothing daunted, I replied, “No 
more suffering, but endless happiness.” 

Mr. Blanchard then proceeded to say some- 
thing which was doubtless meant to be compli- 
mentary. “ I always was surprised, Miss Fleet- 
wood, that a person so strong-minded as you are 
should believe such stuff.” 

“ Don’t, Joseph,” his wife begged. “If your 
eyes were open you would be surprised at your 
surprise.” 

“Eyes opened?” he repeated with impa- 
tience. 

“Yes, I mean what I say. Don’t you think 
he needs just that, Miss Fleetwood?” 

“Yes, I do. He is certainly blinded, sin- 

217 


218 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


blinded. As to jour thinking me too strong- 
minded to believe tlie word of God, Mr. Blan- 
chard, what are you going to do with all the 
learned men, all the wise and good of all ages 
who have lived in the light of the Bible and 
died sweetly resting upon its promises?” 

“ As to that, all men die alike.” 

“ I must dispute your statement, for all men 
do not die alike. One death scene stands out 
very strongly before me, in spite of all you can 
say. I must believe that Wilfred Arthur felt 
the pangs of the lost as he bade adieu to this 
world. There were others whom we both knew, 
who died fearing the endless torments that they 
scoffed at in health. On the other hand, there 
are many, blessed be God, who have died trust- 
ing in the promises of the Bible.” 

He looked rather amused, but he did not 
reply. Mrs. Blanchard spoke, saying, 

“I do not see why you wish people to disbe- 
lieve, Joseph. If a belief in divine things 
made worse husbands and wives, made faithless 
friends and bad citizens, then there might be 
some sense in trying to turn people from 
Christianity. But since the reverse is true, 
since religion makes bad people good, and com- 
paratively good people better, what would you 
gain if you could turn the whole world to your 
way of thinking?” 


MORE TRIALS. 


219 


“Why, I am neither the better nor the worse 
because of my views.” 

“ I think yon are worse,” replied Mrs. Blanch- 
ard. “I see many faults that religion would 
correct. Before I was converted I thought I 
was good, but I would not feel safe to live as I 
lived then, not for a day, or an hour. If you 
cannot see that religion has made me better, 
then I am both sorry and disappointed. I am 
not going to complain of you, but I will say 
that Christian courtesy is more delicate and ten- 
der than any other politeness, seeing that it is 
actuated by that charity that means love. But 
the ingratitude to God, the contempt of the 
atonement that unbelief fosters is most terrible, 
most terrible.” She said no more, but she 
looked very sad. 

“Well, well, I would not cry about it, 
Emma.” 

But Emma did cry, nor was it the first time 
that her tears had fallen because of her hus- 
band’s unbelief. 

“ Of course if you are going to weep, I must 
play that I am vanquished, even though I have 
not that Christian courtesy you speak of.” 

This all sounded very well, but I happened to 
know that when he and his wife were alone her 
tears did not always move him to leave her in 
peace. 


220 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


My call was not likely to prove very pleas- 
ant, and I rose to go, when Mr. Blanchard 
said, 

“ Sit right down, Miss Fleetwood. I’m going 
over- to see Dr. Armstrong. I’ll talk to him 
and you and Emma may talk together, only 
please have so much Christian charity as not to 
talk about us poor sinners.” 

What he said to the doctor I do not know, 
but I remember that Mrs. Blanchard said many 
good things to me. I knew that religion was 
a great educator, but I was not prepared to find 
her so far advanced in the Christian life. 
Surely the words of reproof from the Epistle to 
thS Hebrews could not be applied to her: 

“For when for the time ye ought to be teach- 
ers, ye have need that one teach you again 
which be the first principles of the oracles of 
God ; and are become such as have need of milk 
and not of strong meat.” 

When I contrasted her with some that had 
been much longer in the way, I was convinced 
that all Christians did not grow as they might. 
I felt that my own growth had not been so 
rapid, and I went home humbled. I had felt 
that I was established, and had not remembered 
what a great distance yet remained between me 
and my Master. Of course the divine pattern 
must be an infinite distance beyond us, yet his 


MORE TRIALS. 


221 


followers may each day draw nearer to him. 
Every day brings us nearer our account, so every 
day should help us farther on in faith and love 
and willing service. 

That evening I consecrated myself anew to 
God’s service, and so good grew out of my 
meeting with Mrs. Blanchard. Probably she 
talked more earnestly than if her husband had 
not attacked our religion. So Satan does some- 
times defeat himself. 

Having reflected upon our conversation to a 
good purpose, my mind reverted to the funeral 
of Mr. Williston. Now that he was gone, I 
realized how much he would be missed. As 
has been mentioned, he was converted late in 
life, and he felt that he had wasted much time, 
and this fact led him to be very diligent in 
Christian work. So zealous was he that both 
in season and out of season he had a word to 
speak for the cause he loved. But words of 
caution, words of entreaty even, are not always 
well received, and many thoughtless persons 
hurried past the aged man lest they should hear 
him “preach.” He saw and understood these 
movements and was grieved accordingly. His 
earnest face would become sad that the offers 
of mercy should be so unwelcome to needy sin- 
ners. 

The last time I saw him was at the weekly 


222 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


prayer- meeting. My boys were home and they 
were with me. It was one of those summer 
evenings, when the starless sky was obscured by 
vapory clouds, and the warm, damp air was very 
enervating. We were riding leisurely along 
and had nearly reached the top of the long hill 
on which the church stands, when we saw the 
old man toiling up the ascent with his lantern 
in his hand. I remarked to the boys that not 
many Christians bearing such infirmities would 
take such pains to be at the house of God. But 
Mr. Williston felt more than a sense of duty 
drawing him to the place of social worship; he 
esteemed it a privilege to be there. I can see 
him now as he bent forward in his pew to catch 
every word of the Scripture and the lessons de- 
duced from it. I can see him bow his head in 
assent to some words of the pastor, and I can 
hear his feeble voice address the throne of grace 
when the meeting was open for prayer and testi- 
mony. So far from thinking it a cross to wit- 
ness for Christ, it was his delight. But the 
bent head will no more be seen in the front 
pew, for it lies low to-day. Still God will raise 
it up, according to the promise: 

“Them also which sleep in Jesus will God 
bring with him.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


PARTINGS. 

I will pass over a period of several years, and 
come to the last summer my boys were with, 
me. They had grown very dear to me during 
the years they had been inmates of my home. 
Now they had come to make their last visit, 
which was to be shorter than usual, for in a few 
weeks they were to sail for China. I need not 
say that I was sad at the prospect of parting 
with them, and I think they were about as sad 
as I was, for they bad come to love this old 
place. I never knew that the farm could afford 
so much pleasure to nature loving children. I 
had never had any brothers to lead me on 
rambles, and the woods were as unknown to me 
as if they belonged to a stranger. Even now 
when I look at them they are so dense and 
gloomy that I can hardly credit the boys’ ac- 
count of the pleasant places they found all 
through them. 

Oh those boys, how I would have loved to 
keep them with me! But that would have been 
wrong, I could not have detained even one 
without robbing the cause to which both were 

223 


224 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


dedicated. And then, I would not have known 
which one to choose ; for both had many good 
traits, and both were sincere Christians. The 
Lord had need of them. I never made the 
request my selfishness prompted. So there was 
nothing to be done but to make preparations 
for the dreaded time that was drawing near. 
The days never did seem to fly so fast. 

“Only one week more, Aunt Kezia,” said 
Albert one morning. 

“ Yes, only one week more, my dear boy, and 
Aunt Kezia will have no relative on this side 
of the ocean.” 

Albert looked sad and perplexed after I had 
spoken, then he said slowly, as if doubting the 
propriety of the advice, 

“Aunt Kezia, why don’t you get married? 
then you would not be so lonely.” 

“ Why Albert, at my age ! ” I said laughing. 

“You are not very old, and you are real nice 
looking yet,” he answered. 

“ You are a partial judge, my son, but I thank 
you for your compliment,” and then I added, 
thinking of Rachel Peterson, “ I have no desire 
to change my lot in that respect.” 

“ Then you might adopt some child,” Albert 
said presently with more assurance. 

“ That is a much better plan and I thank you 
for mentioning it,” I answered. 


PARTINGS. 


225 


The truth is, I never thought of adopting any 
one but himself or his brother. This was out 
of the question, but I began to think of some 
one who needed a home, and who would be a 
pleasant companion in my loneliness. 

Maggie Ford’s mother had died sometime before 
this, and her father was fast ruining himself 
by intemperance, so that I knew he could not 
last much longer. Before I slept that night I 
had formed plans for poor little Maggie’s 
benefit. 

Next morning I told Albert about Maggie, 
and he said, “ I am very glad to think that you 
will have some one to claim when we are gone.” 

The little word “gone” was said in an 
unsteady voice, and an answering tear in my 
eye told how we felt about the separation. It 
was already real enough to us all, and its shadow 
often rested on our spirits. 

Clarence never mentioned his departure when 
he could help it, and I began to think that he 
was going with some reluctance. I took the 
first opportunity to draw him out upon this 
subject, and I found it as I had feared. ' I told 
him many things to encourage him. Together 
we looked over the reports from the mission 
fields, and talked of the work that was to be 
done. I was glad to see his enthusiasm kindle 
at the thought of his future usefulness. Then 
15 


226 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


he explained, “ Aunt Kezia, my reluctance 'to 
leave was not because I had lost interest in the 
mission work. I am sorry to think that I am 
not likely to see this fair country again nor you 
my good aunt. Still, it will be good to join my 
parents, and home is where the heart is, and 
that I trust I shall not leave here with you.” 

“Perhaps you have left it in the care of a 
younger and fairer person,” I said, though I 
hardly thought it likely. 

“ No, I don’t know as I have ; that is, I am 
not sure that I have.” 

I said nothing more to Clarence about the 
matter, but I spoke to Albert not long after, and 
asked if he knew that Clarence’s affections were 
engaged. 

He smiled and answered, “I don’t know, 
Aunt Kezia, how much the affair has to do with 
Clare’s long face. I know he was very much 
interested in a Miss Manning that he met last 
year, but I don’t know just how far it has gone. 
I think that he feels badly over it.” 

I felt a great tenderness for Clarence after 
that. Perhaps my sympathy was misplaced 
but some way, I could not help thinking that 
he was passing through a greater trial than he 
was willing to admit. My foolish old heart 
even suggested that I sound the matter and if I 
found it serious, make matrimony possible by 


PARTINGS. 


227 


offering him pecuniary aid. But it wanted only 
a few days of the time set for them to sail, and 
I wisely forbore to unsettle what had hitherto 
seemed a proper arrangement. So there was 
nothing to do but to wait for that last morning. 

It came much too soon. It dawned clear and 
bright and something of its light and peace 
entered our hearts, and we felt that we could 
separate knowing that God’s smile rested upon 
us all. 

Dr. Armstrong came in to say good-by, and 
I do • believe he felt the parting most of all. 
After they were gone, he said, “ I always thought 
that Albert was like Laura in looks and dispo- 
sition, I would liked to have adopted the boy.” 

Something very like tears stood in his gray 
eyes, but he turned his head away, and muttered 
something about “ false notions,” and “ wasted 
lives,” and then hurried away, and I was all 
alone. Yet not alone; for the Christian can 
never be alone. There never can come a time 
when all comfort is denied us, because the Com- 
forter has been sent down into the world to 
abide forever. No matter how we seem to be 
shut in from society and from friends, there is 
always a rift in the darkness, there is always 
the thought that God knows all our sorrows and 
sympathizes with them. 

Trials remind me of Maggie Ford and of the 


228 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


sore time that came to her shortly after I parted 
from the dear boys. Her father was taken with 
sickness and delirium. Maggie did not know 
what to do, only she thought the doctor must 
come to see him. That was all she could do, 
poor child, but pray. This she did, and Dr. 
Armstrong overheard her. He was evidently 
touched by her faith, and he repeated to me what 
he had heard. 

“ Kezia,” he said, “ Ford’s little girl has taken 
to praying. I heard her saying over and over 
again, ‘Lord, send some light into this darkness; 
Lord, send some light into this darkness.’ And 
I reckon that if she sees any light some one will 
have to take it to her.” 

I then told him what I meant to do for the 
child, and he answered, 

“Good. You give Maggie a home, and I will 
see that her father is taken to the inebriate asy- 
lum. He wont live long anywhere.” 

Maggie hardly knew whether she was glad 
or sorry to be separated from her father, but she 
was soon persuaded that such an arrangement 
would be best for both. She was delighted at 
the prospect of a home with me, and she was 
soon perfectly contented and happy. She im- 
proved in health and appearance and I was sur- 
prised to see how pretty she was. She was 
neatly and becomingly dressed and she attended 


PARTINGS. 


229 


school regularly, which she had been unable to 
do since her mother’s death. This had troubled 
her, but care and discouragement had troubled 
her still more till she was nearly broken down. 
And the light had been sent none too soon, 
neither had it been sent too late; for God 
has his own good time to help those who trust 
him. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


DRIFTING APART. 

After an absence of several years, Mrs. Fel- 
ton returned to our village to make her home 
with her sister. I think she came for a purpose, 
and that purpose was to endeavor to lead Mrs. 
Watson to Christ. Mrs. Watson had grown 
weary of the obstinacy with which her husband 
resisted all Christian effort; weary of being 
worldly. She was weary of her novel or news- 
paper for Sunday reading and she had a secret 
longing to mingle with the quiet, well-dressed 
people who passed her door on her way to church. 
Something that she had unintentionally written 
to Mrs. Felton gave a clue to her feelings, and 
although their parents were aged and greatly 
dependent upon her for companionship, she left 
them and returned to Mrs. W atson. 

Mrs. Watson was the older, and she had 
always led Mrs. Felton, but now the younger 
sister decided to take the initiative. On the first 
Sunday after her arrival she said, 

“ Come, Marion, get ready and go to church 
with me,” and she spoke as if she expected her 
words to have weight with the one addressed. 
230 


DRIFTING APART. 


231 


Mrs. W atson looked up in surprise at the au- 
thoritative tone, though she was not exactly dis- 
pleased. 

“ Come, come, you have no time to lose,” per- 
sisted Mrs. Felton. However, as Mrs. Watson 
did not reply, the other continued, “ Come, you 
want a little coaxing, you mean to go of 
course.” 

“ Of course she don’t,” put in Mr. Watson, for 
he began to fear that his wife was going to be 
persuaded. But this time he overreached him- 
self, for she immediately turned upon him with 
the question, “ How do you know that I don’t 
mean to go ? ” 

This interference on the part of her husband 
settled it. She was that morning in no mood 
to be “led by the nose,” as she expressed it, 
particularly as she had long been convinced that 
she was being led wrong. 

Dr. Armstrong was walking briskly up the 
street when he met the two ladies near the 
church door. He looked at them through his 
glasses, then over them, and then he said to Mrs. 
Watson, “Going to church? Why people will 
ask, ‘Is Saul also among the prophets?”’ 

“ If you went, they would say, ‘ The sons of 
God came to present themselves before the Lord 
and Satan came also,’ ” she replied quickly. 

The doctor laughed at the ready reply, and 


232 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


passed on to his patients, while Mrs. Watson 
and Mrs. Felton entered the house of God. 

The service of the sanctuary had become as 
necessary to Mrs. Felton as her daily food. 
She had sought and found the Lord under cir- 
cumstances peculiarly sad and trying, and she 
needed to walk closely at his side. Any lagging 
behind would necessitate the loss of his guidance, 
and she knew that the old fear, the old pain 
would return to her. She never .could dwell 
upon her husband’s death, and she tried to keep 
the smile of the gracious Lord between her and 
the black shadows of those terrible days. 
“ They are with the past, I can change nothing,” 
she would say when they came up before her, 
and she would hasten to her covert beneath the 
wings of the Almighty. 

Mrs. Watson, though feeling a similar need, 
scarcely knew where to look for help. She 
had a dim conviction that she was doing wrong 
in absenting herself from God’s house, and no 
sooner did she hear the well-remembered hymns, 
the prayer, and the reading of the word, than 
she recalled the services of long ago, when she 
was accustomed to attend divine worship. Then, 
though her heart was careless and prayerless, 
she would not have believed that so many years 
would elapse before she would enter the house 
of God. All her sinful neglect rushed in upon 


DRIFTING APART. 


233 


her. She felt that she had wilfully turned 
away from the Lord; would he ever turn to 
her? 

The text was, “ I have blotted out, as a thick 
cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy 
sins.” 

“That he has done for me, and that he will do for 
you,” said Mrs. Felton on their way home, for 
she saw that the service had not been lost upon 
her sister. If the doctor had met them now 
he would have seen that Mrs. Watson’s coun- 
tenance was sorrowful, where before it had been 
careless. All that day she was impressed with 
a sense of sin. The quick eye of her husband 
saw that she did not return as she went, but he 
was far from feeling the satisfaction that Mrs. 
Felton did. 

“ That is what comes of coaxing Marion to 
church,” he said to his sister-in-law that evening. 

“ Then I thank God that she went,” was the 
reply. 

“Do you thank God that she is unhappy?” 

“Yes, because she must feel her sins before 
she can be saved from them.” 

“I suppose after this she’ll be one of your 
moping kind, and I can’t say that I fancy the 
prospect. I have kept her away from all 
fanatics ; for she pleased me as she was.” 

“ No doubt you were better pleased with a 


234 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


bright face than with a sad one, but the joy 
will come back again, and then it will be the 
beginning of everlasting joy; not the feverish, 
changeful joy of this life, but the lasting joy 
of heaven.” 

“ I shall have to perceive it, before I can be 
glad, Kate.” 

“ That is just what I want you to do, believe 
first. Now, Will, I want to ask you why you 
are not a different man? And when you have 
answered that question, I want to ask you how 
much happiness you get out of life? You need 
not tell me that I don’t know what I am talking 
about, for I do, as you may remember. I have 
tasted the bitter fruits of evil, and I hope that 
I have some little knowledge of the fruits of 
righteousness. And 1 ask no greater joy for 
my dear sister than that she too, may know 
the sweet peace that comes to the soul that has 
dropped sin and care at the foot of the cross.” 

“ Oh, I am not going to argue with you, Kate. 
I respect your sincerity, though I don’t coincide 
with your views. Neither am I going to quarrel 
with Marion for going over to the other side, 
but she must remember one thing. If she 
leaves me and looks for happiness in her own 
way, she must not wonder if we drift apart.” 

“Yes, if she leaves you to walk in the way 
God will lead her, and if you persist in your 


DRIFTING APART. 


235 


unbelief, you will drift apart as you say. Have 
you thought how far apart?” 

“ As far as heaven and hell, you think ; but 
I think we will simply drift apart in this world, 
and know no other.” 

“ You make a sad mistake, Will, and if you 
would read the Bible, humbly seeking to know 
the truth, the truth would be revealed to you. 
But if you wilfully shut your eyes to the light, 
of course you will stumble on in darkness and 
only see when it is all too late.” 

Mrs. Felton found it useless to try to influence 
Mr. Watson, but she was glad and happy to 
know that her dear and only sister was no 
longer out of the fold of Christ. She returned 
home not long after to resume her duty toward 
her parents and to pray that her sister might 
be kept from falling, and that Mr. Watson 
might yet be brought to God. How will it end ? 
Only God knows whether they will some day 
meet in heaven, or whether they have started 
out in different paths to be parted forever. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


A missionary’s visit. 

Clarence had been gone over three years when 
I received a very special letter from him. I was 
not surprised to know that he had not lost his 
interest in Miss Manning, but that they had 
carried on a regular correspondence since they 
parted, and that a formal engagement existed 
between them, though separated by the wide 
ocean. He wrote that she was an earnest Chris- 
tian, and willing to devote herself to the service 
of the Master, and finished by saying that he 
thought it would be a decided advantage both 
to himself and his work if she became his wife 
without any unnecessary delay. I expected 
this and I was much interested. So I wrote to 
him that I was heartily in sympathy with him, 
and that if he could get leave of absence I 
would give him all the pecuniary help he needed. 
I am inclined to think that this was just what the 
dear boy hoped I would do. At any rate, my 
offer was readily accepted, and he wrote me that 
I would see him before long. 

Accordingly, one fine May morning found 
me equipped for a journey. For I was to go to 
236 


A missionary’s visit. 


237 


a New England city to see Clarence married. 
I always was a great homebody, so you will not 
wonder that this was the longest trip I ever 
took, having never journeyed further than New 
York. Clarence would take no denial, as I was 
the only relative on this side the ocean, so I 
went to meet my new niece and witness the 
ceremony. 

Clarence brought his bride to my home for a 
short stay, and then we parted, in all probability 
to meet no more this side heaven. Sad as I felt 
after my boy was gone, I did not feel it as I did 
the other parting. One reason was that I had 
looked upon him only as a visitor, and beside, 
something took place shortly after, that served 
to divert my attention, and that was a wedding 
under my own roof. 

My little Maggie had by this time grown up 
into a tall, fine-looking young woman, and her 
friend Johnnie Meade was no longer called 
Johnnie. He was John Meade now, with a 
bearded face, and he was the owner of a comfor- 
table home earned by his own exertions. He 
had bought the old home that John Peterson 
had worked so hard to hold, and Maggie had 
promised to be the mistress of it. I was sorry 
to lose Maggie, but I gave her up quite cheer- 
fully, for I thought that she and John were 
suited to make each other happy. Mrs. Meade 


238 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


was still living and she rejoiced at the happiness 
and prosperity of her son. Even Dr. Armstrong 
called it a good match. He was seldom pleased 
with anything nowadays, yet he manifested 
considerable interest in the young couple, and 
even consented to be present at the wedding. 
He gave them a substantial present ; a roll of 
bills to the amount of one hundred dollars. 
Indeed, Dr. Armstrong knew how to be very 
liberal, and I mention this fact because I do not 
wish to rob him of any deserved praise. 

About this time another death occured in our 
neighborhood, that of Mr. Blake, Bachel Peter- 
son’s husband. There had been a little Improve- 
ment in Blake’s character and he and Rachel 
had grown more companionable than at first, 
but for all that, I could not believe she felt that 
she had sustained a personal loss. I do believe, 
however, that she did not feel exactly comfort- 
able at coming into possession of so consider- 
able a property as Blake left, seeing she had been 
without a wifely affection for him. I think she 
felt some regrets, vain as they must have been, 
for she said to me, 

“ If we could know the end from the begin- 
ning, how differently we would act oftentimes ; 
but since we cannot know, we must stumble on 
blindly. Is it not so ?” 

“ The only thing we can do, is to try and do 


A missionary’s visit. 


239 


right to the best of our ability. It is not neces- 
sary for us to have fore -knowledge, else God 
would have given it. It is safe to trust our 
actions to an enlightened conscience and then 
trust the issues to God.” 

“ So it is,” Rachel assented, and she seemed 
so ill at ease that I changed the subject. After 
a while she began to appear like her old self, 
and I found a pleasure in going to see her. It 
speaks little for my patience, but I must confess 
that I often seek her home now, while I seldom 
went there before her husband’s death. I will 
not deceive myself and say that I go because 
she is a widow and likely to be lonely, for I 
know it is because I find the visits more con- 
genial than formerly. 

This leads me to say that we must scan our 
own motives narrowly. Let us not be too easy 
upon ourselves, let us call things by their right 
names. Let us call our faults faults, and our 
virtues virtues. Let us neither overrate nor un- 
dervalue ourselves, then we shall know some- 
thing as we are known, and then even the light 
of the judgment day will make no very start- 
ling disclosures. The Bible says: “Examine 
yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove 
your ownselves.” We can know where we 
stand ; whether Christ is in us or whether we 
are “reprobates.” 


240 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


But I have left my story as usual, though I 
have but little more to say about Rachel. I 
think she felt that her husband had some good 
qualities that she never appreciated. Whether 
she was right or wrong I cannot say. At any 
rate it is well to think as kindly as possible of 
the dead. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


CLARA AND KEZIA. 

The years that have come to the Fardells 
have brought them many changes, but Clara 
alone, seems to move on in the old even way. 
She still fills the place of older sister and almost 
that of mother to them all. Although all but 
Henry have gone to homes of their own, they 
still turn to Clara for advice and comfort. The 
mother is very feeble and though her hope and 
trust are as bright as ever, her strength is not 
to be taxed by any anxiety. So Clara shields 
her from everything unpleasant. The mother, 
Clara, and the youngest son live in the old 
home, and Henry manages the farm, while 
Clara moves through the house, making all 
things run smoothly. 

She is nearly as gray as her mother, and a 
stranger would at first sight take them to be 
sisters. But a closer look would show that the 
one though so placid is very feeble, and the 
other while possessing her full strength, bears 
the marks of early care and sorrow. If Clara’s 
disposition had been more like her mother’s and 
less like her father’s, the brown would not have 
16 241 


242 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


so early faded from her hair, and her face would 
have had fewer wrinkles. Perhaps though, 
those deep lines in her face were caused by the 
trouble that came to her early in life. I knew 
that Clara would not love lightly, but I thought 
she would be enabled to go forward in the 
strength of One stronger than herself. And so 
she did, but not until sorrow and disappoint- 
ment had left their impress. She is now fully 
resigned to her lot, which seems to be none 
other than to live entirely for others. 

“Here we have no continuing city, but we 
seek one to come.” Let us then, who are seek- 
ers of that city look forward to it with joy, not 
laying disappointment to heart, not counting 
our lives dear unto us, since beyond lies our 
home. 

Clara said something like this to me the last 
time I talked with her. She realizes that we 
are only strangers and pilgrims upon the earth, 
and sad as it may seem that her earthly pros- 
pects were so blighted, the world is often greatly 
benefited by such as she is. 

At times we catch a glimpse of some of the 
lower lights; we see the faithfulness of some of 
his followers and so our faith is strengthened. 
Is not this what our Saviour himself meant when 
he said: 

“Let your light so shine before men, that 


CLAEA AND KEZIA. 


243 


they may see your good works, and glorify your 
Father which is in heaven.” 

I think that Clara’s brothers and sisters were 
benefited by her observance of this text, Truly 
“no man liveth to himself.” - 

If David Fardell could see his family at this 
time he would be convinced that it is no idle 
thing to trust in God. The children share the 
faith of their mother, and all are blessed with a 
fair degree of prosperity. George and David, the 
older sons, have purchased a large farm which 
is nearly clear. Jennie is happily married to a 
young merchant, and her little Clara has a warm 
place in the heart of the auntie for whom she 
is named. 

As I have said, Henry, the youngest son, 
lives at home with his mother and Clara. Of 
all the homes I visit I know none happier than 
theirs. 

The mother is steadfastly looking toward the 
golden shore and her heart is filled with blissful 
anticipations. There seems to be neither room 
nor desire for anything beside. The daughter, 
though feeling that long years may elapse 
before she joins her there, still keeps her eye 
fixed upon the end of the pilgrimage. And 
this is the right and natural view for one to 
take of a life that is set apart to God’s service. 
Clara never did anything in a half-hearted way. 


244 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


To her, service meant service, and worship 
meant worship. She was not one of those who 
are always chafing because they must give up 
so much to God’s honor and glory. I always 
think of the Israelites longing for the flesh pots 
of Egypt, when I hear professing Christians 
say they see no harm in doubtful amusements 
or pleasures. It plainly shows that they are 
pleasing themselves instead of seeking to throw 
their whole souls into the work of establishing 
Christ’s kingdom upon the earth. The} 7- may 
pray “ Thy kingdom come,” and yet their lives 
may not accord with the words upon their lips. 
It seems rather that they are constantly saying, 
“ How far can I go with the pleasures of the 
world and yet gain heaven at last?” Away 
with such a half-hearted service! Does not the 
Master say plainly, “Ye cannot serve God and 
mammon? ” And is it not to such followers that 
he will speak those words, “I never knew 
you ” ? Let me give myself, heart and mind and 
body, to the Lord who redeemed me, and I shall 
do this if I remember these words : 

“For ye are bought with a price: therefore 
glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, 
which are God’s.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


THE BLIND DOCTOR. 

I have now come to the time when I must 
record what has befallen Dr. Armstrong, and 
how he bears himself under his trial. I had 
always feared that he would be punished even 
in this world, for his daring sins and I grieve 
to write that a sore punishment has come upon 
him. For a long time his eyes have troubled 
him, and I knew he had fears of becoming 
blind. Lately he has grown more sullen day 
by day, and I have avoided him as much on his 
account as my own, for I fancied he was uneasy 
when I was present. So I did not know how 
serious his trouble had grown. 

To-day he sent for me to come to his house 
and meet his sister who has just come to keep 
house for him. But before I write anything of 
her, I must tell you how I found the poor 
doctor. Yes, poor now, surely, not that his 
worldly possessions have taken wings, but that 
which he feared has come upon him. He is 
blind, hopelessly blind. He will not yet admit 
the fact except in confidence. 

“ Of course,” he said, “ people will say that it 

245 


246 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


is a punishment sent upon me for my skepti- 
cism. Well, let them say it. No doubt they 
will roll it as a sweet morsel under their 
tongues. But I can stand it.” 

At first I did not enter into conversation 
with him; I was so charmed with his sister, 
that I improved the time in talking to her. 
Beside, I wanted the doctor to manifest it, if he 
had a desire to talk to me. 

Miss Armstrong, by the way, is much like 
her brother in some respects. She has the 
pleasing manners that he can so well assume, 
and her look is not unlike his. But there is 
one great gulf between them. Her heart was 
early given to God, and consequently their lives 
have been very different. And while the out- 
line of their faces is the same, there is no simi- 
larity in their expressions. As well might a 
calm summer sky be compared to the dull gray 
of December clouds. I loved her at once, and 
already I am quite enthusiastic over the friend- 
ship that we shall enjoy. If Laura could have 
had her companionship how it would have com- 
forted her! 

It seems that the brother and sister have pur- 
posely kept apart on account of the difference in 
their views, and they have only met now because 
the doctor’s forlorn condition excites her pity and 
gives her a hope that \ lis affliction may work 


THE BLIND DOCTOR. 


247 


repentance in him. I have this from Miss 
Armstrong, herself, for the doctor is too reticent 
to tell anything that closely concerns himself. 
I talked with her a long time about her brother. 
I tried to be very guarded, but I think she saw 
that I had little hope of his conversion. And 
indeed, there seems but little chance to hope, 
as he himself proved a few minutes after we 
had done speaking. 

“Kezia,” he began, “I wanted you to come 
over partly because I wanted Emily, my sister, 
to see Laura’s sister, and partly because I wanted 
to have another talk with you. I remember 
you predicted that some judgment would over- 
take me, and now I suppose you think your 
prophecy has been fulfilled. I would like to 
know just how you feel about it. If you are 
sorry for me I will think that you are a good 
woman, but if you shake your head and say 
that I could expect nothing else, I shall hate 
you and think you a worse person than I am. 
For I never rejoiced at suffering; never said, 
1 It serves him right,’ even though it might have 
been true. I have never merited this, I, who 
have attended the poor year after year, never 
receiving, nor expecting to receive a penny for 
my services! There is no justice in this.” 

“You must not expect justice from blind 
chance,” I replied. 


248 


KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 


“ Well, there is no justice in it whether it is 
ordered by God or the devil. Precious little 
reason have I to thank, to love, or to serve — 
whoever or whatever has had the ordering of 
my lot. Three beautiful children lie buried 
yonder beside her who bore them, and I am not 
only a childless widower, but a blind man. 
Talk to me of repenting ? The wrong course 
has been pursued with me.” 

I made no answer, and he said, “Why don’t 
you talk, Kezia?” 

I dreaded to provoke him and yet I could not 
help asking, “Were you not a healthy prosper- 
ous man for long years? Did you not set your- 
self to injure the cause of him who was the 
author of all your blessing? Was there not a 
manifestation of the long suffering of God toward 
you before he laid his hand upon you? Wil- 
fred’s career was very short, so was Ike Shep- 
herd’s, and so was Felton’s. Their untimely 
end verifies the warning: ‘The wicked shall 
not live out half their days.’ You and Blanch- 
ard and some others will prove another text: 

‘ Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall 
not be unpunished.’ ” 

“ There, I knew you were glad. You are 
nothing like Laura, nothing.” 

“No, I am not glad,” I replied. “But God 
has permitted it, and it must be right, and per- 


THE BLIND DOCTOR. 


249 


haps it is a blessing in disguise. If that be so, 
if the blindness that you must endure for the 
remaining years of this life, should be the 
means of opening the eyes of your understand- 
ing, so that you may enter upon life eternal, 
then, indeed, I shall be glad, and so will you 
when you awake in the likeness of Christ. 
You say I am not like Laura, but I am like her 
in some respects. She prayed for your salva- 
tion, and so do I. She mourned over your 
hardness of heart, and so do I. One of the last 
things she said to me was, ‘Kezia, promise me 
that you will always pray for the doctor.’ And 
I promised. How can 1 be indifferent to your 
welfare with that promise resting upon me? 
But I am not prepared to say that I am sorry 
that you are blind. That sounds hard, does it 
not? I am sorry that you have to endure suf- 
fering, but, believing it is for discipline, I can- 
not be sorry that you have it.” 

“Well, you need not be sorry,” he said, then 
muttering to himself he went on, “It’s all cant, 
all cant, the whole of it. She’s the same old 
Kezia.” 

I made no reply, and he spoke again, “ Kezia, 
you need not come again. You are a poor com- 
forter. I don’t want any of your religion, and 
I am sorry I sent for you. I can get along 
without friends. I’ll shake hands with you this 


250 KEZIA AND THE DOCTOR. 

once, just for Laura’s sake, and we’ll say good- 
by. Then you may go. Go and enjoy your 
sight and the companionship of your friends, 
and think no more of the blind old doctor.” 

So I was dismissed. But I shall not be sur- 
prised if he sends for me within a week. The 
poor man is so uneasy that he does not know 
what he wants. I am anxious about him, very 
anxious ; but all I can do is to commit his case 
to God. He is a great sinner, but Christ is a 
great Saviour; the doctor may yet, for all I know, 
prove the depth of Christ’s redemption. I can 
say no more of him than this. It brings me to 
the end of my story. 

How that I have finished it, I wonder if I 
have been as earnest as I should have been. I 
wonder if Wilfred would think that I had been 
faithful to my trust, if he could read what I 
have written. I wonder if Alice and all the 
dear ones who have gone before, and who are 
enjoying the reward of the righteous would 
approve of my little offering for the good of 
humanity. And above all, I wonder if Jesus, 
whom I have tried to honor, will be pleased 
to smile upon this effort and bless some one 
through this little book. If so, then Kezia 
Fleetwood has not taken up her pen in vain. 


THE END. 






























































































































































































